Take Me Higher
by leblover
Summary: Percy and the gang are all attending high school in NY. But Jason and the Romans are also attending a rival school close by. So what happens when their seemingly different lives get tangled up? Things get pretty interesting. AU, no gods. Not a slash.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey people! Yes, yes this is another high school drama for the PJO series, but I personally enjoy them and I just had to start one. As the summary says, there'll be both Greeks and Romans in this, so as far as I know there's not many with both in the same story (also I'm too lazy to look through all 900+ pages to find out) but I hope to think my idea is unique. So, enjoy!**

**P.s. Rick Riordan is the genius, not me (sadly).**

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><p><span>Take Me Higher: Percy J. POV<span>

Chapter 1

I. . .was a troubled kid.

Honestly there's really no point in denying it. And I could start at any moment in my short miserable life to prove it too. For example, until I was about 14, I'd been kicked out of every school I'd ever attended. Well it wasn't like I was trying to get kicked out; it's just. . .things don't really turn out in my favor sometimes: there was the time in fourth grade I almost drowned my class to death at Marine World. That was a fun trip by the way. Fortunately, (or unfortunately depending how you look at it) the sharks had been taken out of their tanks the day before. Then in fifth grade there was the time our school bus exploded at the Saratoga battlefield. In my defense, those 200 year old cannons shouldn't have been loaded in the first place, it was too tempting. Add to that the fact that I'm dyslexic, have ADHD, and live with my wonderful mom, but for some unexplained reason married a smelly lazy asshole named Gabe, in a 150 sq. meter apartment and you might find reason why.

But lately, I think my luck's been starting to turn around. I mean, I'm almost 17 now, this is my third year in the same school (a personal record), and you could say I'm a pretty popular guy.

No thanks to a certain blonde haired, gray eyed girl to _'keep me from being a seaweed brain'_ in her words. Her name's Annabeth Chase and she's. . .hmm, what's the word I'm looking for? Bossy, stubborn, arrogant, and a little-miss-know-it-all are a few that come to mind. But she's also my girlfriend and has got me wrapped around her finger.

Speaking of which. . .

"Hey, Percy." She called, greeting me at the front door of Goode High School. She gave me a hug and a quick peck on the cheek. She was wearing her blue jeans, orange Goode t-shirt, and gray converse. She also had her silver owl earrings on and a bead chain with a college ring. So simple, yet stunning too.

"Hey, Annabeth." I said hugging back. After a second, we entered through the doors side by side.

Goode High School was this really big, really nice brownstone building on East 81st street in NYC. Inside, the halls were packed with students taking books out of their lockers, hiding their phones from passing teachers, or just checking how they looked in the mirror. We walked over to our lockers, which conveniently happened to be right next to each other. I actually traded ones with the kid who had it before, but she doesn't know that.

"So, did you do the English homework?" she asked, opening her locker.

I raised a brow at her, "Do you even have to ask?" I said smugly, which in other words meant 'no'. I took out the Greek book from my locker and got ready for first period.

She scowled and rolled her eyes the way she always does when she gets irritated, "Percy, we talked about this. Mr. Blofis might be a cool teacher, but you shouldn't push you luck with him. He expects more from you."

It was my turn to roll my eyes, "I didn't say I wasn't gonna do it. I have free period after Greek. That gives me more than enough time to get through a few pages of Hamlet."

"Oh please, it takes you half an hour just to finish a page, and you still don't understand a word after."

"Well excuse me for being dyslexic. And it takes me 20 minutes, not a half hour." I corrected playfully.

She just sighed and slammed her locker. "So, we still on for our study date tonight?"

"Not sure. I've got soccer practice at 5 so. . .you up for a late night study session at your place?"

I noticed her tense up a bit as her eyes narrowed. "My place?" she questioned unsurely.

"Yeah, I mean, if that's ok with you?"

She didn't look too ok with it. Her glare made her seem hesitant, nervous even. There was something she was hiding in those stormy gray eyes of hers. We usually went to Starbucks or any of the dozens of cafes with Wi-Fi in New York, but we've never actually been to each other's house. And I sure as Hell didn't want to invite her over with Smelly Gabe home. God knows what might happen.

I think she was about to say something back, when the bell suddenly rang. She sighed in relief; talk about saved by the bell. "We better get to class."

"Yeah. . ." I replied, but I wasn't about to let this one pass just yet. In the 6 months we've been dating and the 2 years we've known each other since she moved from San Francisco, _'family'_ and _'home'_ were never one of those subjects we liked to talk about. So basically we just. . .didn't. And it kinda works that way: she doesn't mention it, I don't mention it, and the other doesn't ask about it. That doesn't mean I'm not curious or anything.

You can bet, I'll find out. Sooner or later, I know I will.

!#$%^&*()

. . .

The morning went by pretty fast and before I knew it, it was already time for lunch.

Hundreds of juniors and seniors started filling up the cafeteria. Kids with plastic orange trays of food were scrambling to get seats next to their friends, like animals playing musical chairs. Just trying to navigate through the maze of tables and students was like walking into a busy highway on a Monday morning: you didn't watch were you were going, then BAM, you crash into another person and get spaghetti or ice cream stains on your shirt.

It was chaotic. It was messy and loud. But it sure was whole lot of fun to try.

"Hey, Perce!" a voice shouted over the noise. I looked around and saw my best friend, Grover Underwood, sitting down and waving at me from a table in the back. I walked over to him, managing to dodge near collision with a dozen other students.

"Hey, G-man," I said sitting next to him. It was a round table seated for seven, five of which were occupied. My other friends Nico di Angelo, Thalia Grace, and the Stoll Brothers, Connor and Travis were also seated.

"What's up, guys." I greeted.

Surprisingly, Travis and Connor didn't have their patented mischievous grins on for once. They were trying to act all innocent by avoiding eye contact.

"Nothing, nothing at all." Connor said a few octaves too high.

They were acting weird, even for the Stoll Brothers that says a lot. One thing you learn really quickly after spending some time with them was that they were always up to something, but this didn't seem to be the case. They looked like they were hiding something.

I sighed. I was getting tired of people hiding things from me. "Ok, seriously guys. What's goin on?"

"Umm. . .well. . .you see—" Travis started but was cut off by Nico hitting his arm.

"Oww!" he winced. "What the Hell was that for?"

Nico leaned in closer to him, "I thought we agreed we weren't gonna tell him just yet."

I looked to Grover. My expression probably said something like _'Tell me what's going on, or I swear I'll burn down the closest forest there is'_ because he held up his hands in defense and said, "Not my problem, Percy. This is just for you soccer jocks."

I furrowed my brows. What did he mean by that?

You see, in this school, I was Mid-fielder and Captain of the school soccer team, The Spartans. Travis, Connor, and Nico were our fastest runners, so they were naturally our 3 Forwards. There was also our goalkeeper Charles Beckendorf and a few other kids on the team. And together, we were one of the best teams in the Manhattan school district. We were undefeated so far and it was already half way through the season league. At the end of the year, there's an annual tournament between the two best high school teams for the championship title. If we keep playing the way we were now, it's almost guaranteed we'd get into the tournament. Nothing and no one would stand in our way. No one.

Then, Thalia just rolled her eyes and grabbed a folded up paper from Connor.

"Hey," he complained, but he didn't dare try to take it back. Truth be told, as much of a flirt as Connor was, people learned quickly not to mess with a girl like her. Thalia was one tough nut, but if you knew her well enough and were a good friend to her, she occasionally showed her sweeter side.

"Here," she said handing it to me. "Travis _'found'_ this in Coach Hedge's office. It's your new match schedule, but Percy," she paused for a sec to look at me with those intense, electric blue eyes. They looked so out of place with her Metallica T-shirt, black leather pants, and chain jewelry it was almost scary. Her gaze felt like she was trying to warn me though. "Just. . .don't freak out, ok?" she finished.

I was still puzzled by her seriousness but I nodded anyway. It was just a match schedule. I mean seriously, how bad could it be?

I unfolded the paper. There was a chart with lots of names, times, and locations. But with my dyslexia, I hardly noticed since most just flew right off the page; most, except for one.

**1. Match: GHS (Goode High School) vs. WMS (Westover Military School), Friendly: 1:00 PM Saturday, Field of Mars**

It took all of my will power not to jump out of my seat and make a scene.

"Percy, you ok?" I heard Nico ask. He sounded worried. "Dude, your hands are shaking."

"Look, man," Travis said. "It's not that bad. I mean it'll be diff—"

He was cut off again, but this time it was by me. "Not that bad!" I whispered/shouted. "Are they f***ing insane or something! Do they not even remember the last time we had a match against each other!"

"Percy," Grover said, but his voice was dead serious. "I don't think anyone can forget what happened last time. I understand bro, I truly, honestly do. But it's been over a year and a lot has changed. Travis is right; it'll be different this time."

I shook my head. "You don't know that, Grover." I stood up and took my tray with me, suddenly I wasn't that hungry anymore. "I'll see you guys later." I then dumped my food in the bin and walked out of the cafeteria.

In a way, he might've been right. Things have changed a lot since. . .that incident. But still, I couldn't get what had happened out of my mind. It was like a recurring nightmare that stays with you. No matter what I did or where I went, I've had to carry the weight of that moment with me for a long time. I just wasn't about to forgive them for what had happened. I don't think I ever can.

And it was all because of a certain, rival school soccer team named, The Romans.

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><p><strong>So, hope you guys enjoyed it. But to be honest, I absolutely HATE calling football (international) 'soccer' even though I was born in America. I mean come on, they don't even use their feet in American football and there's just one damn kicker. SERIOUSLY? But since most of you probably reading this are from the states, I have to give the people what they want.<strong>

**REVIEWS will be greatly appreciated by the way. So if you please. . .just click that button with the little bubble under here.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi. Sorry this took so long, it's just school's been hectic on me and it's slowing down my writing. Those of you reading my other story 'The Thief and the Eagle' I apologize and I hope I'll be able to update this weekend. Also, because my wonderful reviews so kindly asked, there will be Percabeth (obviously), Jasper, Jason/Reyna, Thalico, and many more but that's all I'm saying. Just to make it clear, everyone here is human, the summary says 'No Gods'. So, Enjoy!**

**P.s. Rick Riordan's the genius, not me.**

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><p><span>Take Me Higher: Jason G. POV<span>

Chapter 2

I. . .have a broken family.

It's not something I really like talking about. Plus I've never told anyone else about it. Not even my friends. But I guess I might as well tell someone.

I've got a mommy and daddy just like you! With just a few minor problems though: they're divorced, they completely despise each other, and they separated me from my sister.

Yeah, I have a sister. Her name's Thalia and I'm lucky if I get to see her twice a week nowadays. Together the four of us lived in a run-down apartment in one of the not-so-nice neighborhoods in Brooklyn. We were basically poor. My Dad worked a dead end job as a ground control operator at JFK airport while my Mom went for a shot at acting.

But one day—by stroke of sheer luck—Dad's manager got fired for negligence, and he was promoted. Slowly then, year after year, he made his way up the ranks. He got a better salary, more vacation time, and family benefits. My Mom though. . .wasn't so lucky. She started complaining that he was spending more time at work than with her, she started accusing him of seeing other women, that he wasn't making enough money to fulfill her career, that she couldn't handle the both of us. They fought constantly after that, and one day. . .he just couldn't deal with her anymore. So he filed for divorce.

But that was back when I was just 4, and Thalia was 6. Fast forward 11 years, and it's a much different picture.

Thalia is staying with Mom in our old building, and I'm living with Dad in a big apartment in Lower Manhattan.

Well, _'living with'_ aren't exactly the correct choice of words. I go to Westover Military School which is just outside the city, so on school days I stay in the dorms, and Dad spends his days at JFK as head of security; it's a 24-hour job. If he's not there, he's always on his phone managing it. The only time he's really there is to show his _'date of the week'_ his king size bed. Guess motel rooms were considered below him.

Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked.

To be honest, military school really isn't that bad. I mean, yeah it's terribly strict, overly formal, and a major joy killing machine, but. . .it's still a high school, right?

There's classes, students, sports, friendships, rivalries, dates, drama. You know, normal stuff.

"**CADETS! ATTEEEEEEN-TION!"**

…

Well. . .almost.

We stood at attention in front of the school yard, waiting for permission so we could enter our classes. Everyone was wearing their white military button shirts under their dark purple jackets and dress pants, the school uniform. At least we didn't have to wear ties, believe me those are a real hassle if you don't know what you're doing. We stood like this on EVERY SINGLE MORNING. But after a while you just learn to get used to it.

Lieutenant Lupa, our school principle and supervisor, stood at the front doors in between two flag poles; one had the American flag, while the other was a deep purple with the letters _S.P.Q.R_ and a bald eagle atop in gold, it was the school's flag.

"Listen up, pups." She ordered. She liked to call us her pups. No one really knows why. Maybe she had a pet dog or something.

Although, she does have a way of giving off this animalistic, even wolfish, vibe to her; she would respect and honor you if you were considered tough enough and you did things right, or she would tear you to shreds, without so much as a second thought, if you were too weak and couldn't get the job done. That was Lt. Lupa's way. Weakness was not an option. And if that wasn't enough, her chocolaty red hair tied back in a tight bun and piercing silvery eyes only added to her already intimidating demeanor.

"As you all know, this Saturday is the friendly match against Goode High School." A few kids in the crowd scoffed in response, me included.

Please, we all knew that game would be anything but friendly. Especially after what those Goode guys did last year. There was no way this was going to be a fair match.

Lt. Lupa glared at us, "Now, before any of you pups get any smart ideas, let me make this clear; there will NOT be a repeat of last year." She eyed a few of the more mischievous cadets for good measure. Even I'll admit it's hard not to get a bit fearful under her gaze. "I will not tolerate any incident this time. Three cadets were discharged without honors and I will not hesitate to do the same again."

"Do I make myself clear?"

We all straightened and nodded, "Yes, lieutenant."

She nodded back, "Dismissed!"

We walked in, making a wide circle around the lieutenant to avoid contact, like she had some contagious disease.

!#$%^&*()

. . .

I was assaulted by a hall of weapons. They weren't dangerous, really. Most were protected by a framed Plexiglas case and the ones that weren't could hardly do any real damage. There were hundreds of them, dating from completely different time periods. Crossed medieval swords and shields hung next to a few Revolutionary pistols you'd think only Jack Sparrow would know how to use. Antiqued civil war rifles stood next to real military issued M-16s. It was one of the perks of military school, if you were into that sort of stuff of course.

As I walked to my locker, one glass case in particular caught my eye.

It was a simple wooden frame, fairly bigger than the rest. It was one of those cases the school used to shelve its trophies and achievements.

We had a pretty good collection, even if it was a bit dusty. Military medals, basketball trophies, soccer trophies, there was even a silly purple #1 foam finger. But I wasn't paying those any attention; I was more focused on one of the empty shelves. There was an empty circle free of dust implanted on the center of the wood.

Just looking at it filled me with a sense of dread and failure. For what seemed like a meaningless piece of nothing, that empty spot carried a lot of weight around Westover.

It was a long story. One the school didn't need to hear for the umpteenth time.

"Don't you know it's bad luck to stare at it?" A voice to my right said.

I looked over to the voice. It was just my friend, Reyna Whiscott. **(A/N: does anybody know her last name? If she even has one?)**

I smiled at her, "Hey, Reyna." But one sideways glance back at that empty spot wiped it off my face in an instant.

She noticed my mood change. "You know it wasn't your fault, Jason," she continued. "How was anyone supposed to know those idiots from Goode would be stupid enough to steal from a military school?"

I shook my head, "They took our Eagle, Reyna." I retorted miserably. "It's not whether I thought they'd do it or not. It's that it happened in the first place, under my watch no less."

She pursed her lips. It didn't seem her attempts at cheering me up were working, so she opted for the next best thing: shifting my focus.

"Look, that's not important anymore." I looked back at her cynically. Her dark eyes showed she meant what she said, though it was still a bit hard to believe. "What's important now is that you show those bastards who they're dealing with. Nobody steals from this school and gets away with it. This Saturday is your chance to restore our teams' honor."

I couldn't help but crack a smile again. It was good to know I still had a few people behind me for support, especially with a girl like Reyna. You won't believe how tough the competition is here at Westover, in everything! Grades, sports, debates, popularity. . .the list goes on and everyone is gunning to be the number one guy or girl. She was one of those people too, but that didn't stop her from lending a hand.

"Thanks, Reyna. . .I really needed that."

She smiled back; her eyes softening a bit as she did. "You're welcome, Jason."

We stood there for a while in a comfortable silence.

Until the peaceful silence was broken by a very unwelcomed guest, "Aww, isn't that sweet?"

Me and Reyna broke our gaze and stared daggers at the intruder, Octavian. The two of us have always had our share of differences, which in other words meant—we hated each other's guts with a burning passion since we laid eyes on each other years ago. And it's not like we tried to hide it. It was one of the schools many open secrets.

I sighed in annoyance, "What do you want, Octavian?" I questioned harshly.

He looked at me with mocked shock, "Oh, what do I what? Well, let's see. I want what everyone in this school wants, a good team Captain. A strong Captain with vision, understanding, and courage."

Reyna scoffed. "That definitely crosses you out, Octavian. At least Jason didn't need a big mouth to get where he is now."

I smirked at her response. Reyna hated him just as much as I did. Octavian didn't give a damn about the school or its students; he was only in it for the power and control that came with being a leader. And as great as speaker Octavian was, he couldn't back up his words. I could, and that's all it took to be a leader.

"Why don't you tell your little girlfriend to mind her own business, Jason. Or are you going to hide behind your friends again? I always thought a Captain could fight his own battles."

I balled my fists, "She's not my girlfriend, and I'm not hiding behind anyone."

He grinned. Then he did something I didn't expect. He turned to Reyna and said, "Well, you were right about one thing Whiscott. He didn't need a big mouth to become Captain; all he needed was a phone call and a few hundred bucks from his daddy."

I swear I was just about to put my hands around his bony neck until he ate those words, when the bell suddenly rang.

"Well, that's my cue. See you later, Grace." Then he was gone.

I could still feel blood boiling after those words and I knew my face was probably as red as a tomato. I hit the nearest wall just to vent some of my anger out. The impact was a bit more forceful than I had wanted, but I hardly noticed. "That spineless little cockroach." I simmered.

Reyna nodded, "No kidding. You should've knocked him out when you had the chance."

I shook my head, "Wouldn't have done much good, he's too hard-headed."

She smiled lightly, "Maybe. Now, come on. We don't want to be late for Mr. Terminus' class, God knows what he might do if we don't have uniforms ironed out."

She was right. Mr. Terminus was an OCD freak of nature. Going on endlessly about the rules, boundaries, and regulations we had to follow to the letter. He practically lived by the school's handbook.

So we broke into a run. The last thing I needed was another problem to add to my already growing list of them. I had too many things going on in my mind as it was, one of which was to see my sister, Thalia, this weekend. And the other was the game that could make or break my future as Captain of the Romans.

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><p><strong>AN: So, you guys like it? I'm not too happy with a few parts but maybe it's just me. So please REVIEW! You'd be doing me a huge favor.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey people! Don't have much to say at the moment, just hope you enjoy the chap. Thanks to all who reviewed! I got so many great ideas thanks to you guys. Anyway, Enjoy!**

**P.s. Rick Riordan is the genius, not me.**

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><p><span>Take Me Higher: Piper M. POV<span>

Chapter 3

I did it. I finally got my wish.

After many long, torturous, and miserable years switching from one snobby boarding school to another, I'm finally doing something normal for a change—going to high school. A real high school.

It was a hard fought battle just to get my Dad and I to discuss it. We don't really get a lot of quality father-daughter time. My Dad's. . .kind of a famous actor. So he's normally not around. But his personal assistant and manager, Jane, is unfortunately, always around. The two of us were never on great terms; mostly because she's always getting in the way of me and my father. She plans everything. She controls and manages his schedule so we'd see each other for barely a few minutes a day. One time, I went a whole two months without seeing him while he was filming in the Caribbean. And that was before I gave up boarding schools.

I did some things before. Stupid things. Crazy things. I did them because then my Dad would have to pay attention to me. All I wanted was more time with him, but it didn't go exactly as I planned. Dad always seemed sad, disappointed every time he got a call from the headmaster or mistress. It felt horrible. Watching him strut towards me after having to cut shooting on a film early for this, having to look into those sad, dark eyes of his, sensing the happiness leave his face whenever he heard I got in trouble.

'_You promised you'd try, Pipes.'_ He said once. That sentence hurt most, like a stake through the heart.

Things surprisingly got better after that; we started talking a lot more, starting spending more time together. That's when I finally got up the nerve to ask my wish. He was a bit skeptical at first, but I happened to be very convincing.

Which happens to be the reason why I'm currently sitting in Jane's dull, gray Kia in front of a building named Goode High School on East 81st street, located in wonderful New York City.

"So, first day of high school," Jane said, breaking the silence. "I wish you luck, Piper. You'll need it."

I ignored the comment. But I wasn't ready to get out of the car just yet. No matter how much I wanted to.

Looking up at the brownstone arch entrance, the campus grass, and the row of classroom windows behind it, I was excited. . .but also terrified. This was new territory, and I was a small fish in a big pond.

"Will my dad be picking me up?" I asked. "He said he'd come by when I finished."

She smiled soothingly. "You know that's not going to happen, sweetie. Your father and I are flying back to L.A. tonight for the project." She explained. "I've arranged a driver to take you where you'd like after school."

I sighed unhappily, turning my attention to her. "When will he be back?" I asked. Note: I said he, not you or you guys.

She took out her PDA and tapped it a few times. "About 8 days. It's a big project. He'll be busy with shooting most of the time." She answered discouragingly.

_Great,_ I thought. _The whole first week of a new school without Dad. That's comforting._

I scowled at her and got out of the car, slinging my book bag over my shoulder.

"Have a great day, Piper!" I heard her call.

!#$%^&*()

. . .

"So. . .Miss Piper McLean, is it?" the principal of Goode, Mr. D, asked me.

We were sitting in his office. It was a well-lit place. He had this modern-style, cherry oak desk with ripe grape vines entangled around the legs and front of the desk. Mr. D himself was a sight for sore eyes, with his black hair combed back, pristine white button shirt, and deep purple tie. Even his irises seemed to take on a slight violet color.

"Umm, yes sir," I nodded, sitting across from him. My chair was way too big for comfort and I struggled to find a good position. "I'm transferring over from Los Angeles." I said, hiding my discomfort.

"Oh yes, I know." He replied nonchalantly, holding up a thick yellow folder with my name on it.

I resisted the urge to gulp. _Play it cool, Piper. _I thought. _Play it cool._

I admit, it was a bit worrying for a principal to have a pretty big folder of a kid who hasn't even had her first class yet. So what else did he know from that folder?

"Look. . .Mr. D," I said. "I just came in here for my class schedule and everything. So if I could just have them, I'll be on my way."

"In due time, Miss McLean, in due time." he answered. "Now it says in here that you've had your fair share of rebellious shenanigans. . .like any spoiled teenager would." He mumbled the last part, but I managed to hear it anyway. "Including an accusation of auto theft and joyriding of a BMW M5 series, excellent choice of vehicle I might add, but nonetheless, I find myself at a dilemma. No charges were ever filed and your juvenile record is sealed with the court, no thanks to your father I presume, but I understand it was your decision to enroll in this particular school. So, may I ask why?"

I was caught off guard by the question, and there was no easy answer I could provide. It seemed like a nice, normal, everyday high school. It didn't sound like a great answer, but what other reason would there need to be?

"I. . .don't really know, sir. But, with all due respect, why do you ask?"

He sighed and got up out of his chair, pacing slowly behind his desk. "I'm not known to be fond of trouble-makers, Miss McLean. No matter how rich and powerful their families may be. At any rate, I think I know a reformed student when I see one, and you're obviously very eager to start here. But I warn you, don't expect any special treatment from me because you could wave a few hundred dollars around like it was air, this isn't a place for private bodyguards or special lunch settings or designer uniforms."

I almost wanted to smile. "Believe me, sir. I completely agree; those won't be necessary at all."

He stopped and raised a brow. "Did you think I was offering?"

". . .Uh, no sir."

"Good. And as for your record, this school doesn't need any more bad press."

That was a strange choice of words. Like. . .something had already happened before. "What do you mean?" I asked.

His expression went blank and he seemed to stare out into space. "Very unfortunate incident last year. Terrible incident. 5 students expelled. It's a God damn miracle no one filed a criminal charge, not that it would've done the school any good." He muttered, as if speaking to himself.

"O-kaaaay."

He then noticed I was still there. "Hmph, well here's your schedule, Miss McLean. Go on, now. Off you go."

I nodded and took the paper in his hand. "Thank you, Mr. D."

!#$%^&*()

. . .

My first class was Greek in room 201 with a Mr. Brunner. I found that a bit weird. Seriously, Greek? I knew all about the mythology and heroes while researching for a movie my Dad did, but the language? This wasn't going to be easy.

It didn't take me long to find the class I was looking for. I could already tell from the noise coming inside the class had already started; a teacher's voice lecturing, the squeaking of a marker against the white-board, the whispers of students. _This was it,_ I thought, _time to face the music_. I took a deep breath before entering through the door.

"—could tell me what _ómorfi̱_ means?" asked a bearded man in a motorized wheel chair.

Instantly, a dozen hands shot up. The wheel chaired man didn't pay them any attention as he said, "Mister Valdez."

A baby-faced, elfish looking Latino kid perked up. He'd been talking to this tall, black-haired, sea green eyed boy sitting next to him. "Huh, what?"

A few kids laughed. "I said could you please translate the word _ómorfi̱ _for the class, Mr. Valdez." He repeated politely.

"Uh. . .it means. . .umm. . ." That's when the elfish boy noticed I was standing by the door. Our eyes connected for a long, tense second. "Beautiful." He finished dreamily. I looked away, praying that I wasn't red at the moment.

"Close enough, Leo," the teacher sighed. "The direct meaning is beauty, class."

"Umm, Chiron," the black haired boy next to Leo looked my way.

The teacher, Chiron, then saw me. "Oh Heavens, come in, come in," he said quickly. "Class, I'd like you to meet our newest student, Miss Piper McLean."

I walked inside tentatively. "Hi. You must be Mr. Brunner." I addressed the teacher.

He smiled warmly. "Please child, call me Chiron. Everyone here does."

"Ok. . .Chiron."

"Why don't you go take a seat next to Miss Chase over there. Oh, and Annabeth, be sure to show Miss McLean around the school. Intorduce her to the stundents."

A blonde in an orange Goode High School t-shirt stood and nodded, "Yes, Chiron."

He turned back to me. "You'll be in good hands, dear. Go on."

I nervously walked over, trying to ignore the stares from all 20 kids in the class. This may not have been my first time in a new school, but the stares never get any less creepy. I wasn't the type of person who liked being in the spotlight. It was really uncomfortable.

"Hey," the blonde greeted with a smile, extending her hand. "I'm Annabeth."

I shook it, smiling politely before taking the seat next to her. "Piper."

"Where are you from?" she asked.

"Los Angeles."

"Really?" she said, her brows raised slightly. "I used to live in San Fran. Not my favorite place."

My smile widened a bit. "Yeah, well it wasn't the city I hated; it was the boarding schools."

She nodded reassuringly. "I can relate. Don't worry, Goode High is really different. Everyone's nice and helpful. You'll love it here, I'm positive of that."

I nodded unsurely. So far it's been a great day and everyone here seemed friendly, with the exception of Mr. D, but I still had a feeling all of this was going to take time to get used to. Especially without Dad being home to go back to. But who knows, I now have a friend, a welcoming teacher, and a room full of people to get to know. And suddenly, I didn't feel like a small fish anymore.

Maybe there is room in this school for the secret daughter of a celebrity. Not that they had to know that, just yet.

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><p><strong>AN: Awww, are any of you guys thinking that too? As you could see, I put a bit of Leo/Piper in there. She's one of my absolute favs of the series. I'm gonna have so much fun with this. Mwahahaha! :)**

**Next chap will be Thalia! So. . .REVIEW!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: S'up people? Hope you had a great vacation. I know I did. Well, here's the next chap and as promised, it's Thalia's. Also (due to the constant nagging of reviewers) there will be Jasper in this story. Even though I was PLANNING on putting some in anyway! Some people are just too impatient. So ENJOY!**

**Review replies:**

**Dani9513: Wait; there are ppl who hate Piper? Who?**

**God1801: Yeah, sorry man. But you know it's true! I'm a Cowboys fan, btw and they weren't doing good so excuse my little rant. ;)**

**Kittyhawk09: Yeah those are the pairings. I'm putting Jason, Reyna, Piper, and Leo in a really crazy love square. You can thank me for the spoiler now.**

**Ok that's done, PEACE OUT PPL! And get reading!**

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><p><span>Take Me Higher: Thalia G. POV<span>

Chapter 4

I am related to the enemy: the _'supposedly'_ ultra evil, self-centered, would do anything to win Captain of the Westover team. . .Jason Grace.

I say 'supposedly' because no one at Goode actually knows Jason. The real Jason. Hell, three quarters of the school don't even know what he looks like, or the fact that we share the same last name (not that they'd notice if they did). To them, he's just Jason. But does that stop people from still hating him? No. In their eyes he's the enemy. He's a Roman.

It bugs me. It bugs me so much how hateful people can be; I just want to judo kick some sense into them! Believe me, they'd definitely think twice after that.

But I'm no better. I let them. I have to if I want to keep him a secret.

I'm normally not one to give a damn about what other people think, unlike 95% of all the kids at Goode, but I don't want to lose the few friends I already have. Especially Percy. Boy, he would totally flip if he ever found out. I'm not so sure about the others. The whole soccer team is too caught up in their little rivalry, but that's just for show. Underneath it all. . .is a pure unadulterated thirst for revenge because of last year.

Other than that I don't have too many female friends except for Annabeth, Katie Gardner, Juniper Bush, and Silena Beauregard. That Piper girl seems nice, though. A bit hesitant and mysterious, but nice. We met at lunch after Percy blew a gasket because of Saturday's match against the Romans. Annabeth was showing her around before she had to go calm down her man. She's the only one who could really get through to that seaweed brain of his.

And. . .there's also Nico.

We're the ones who stick out in our little _'clique'_ if you could even call it that. We're the loners, the punks/goths, the kids who don't give a shit about others opinion and will tell them that straight up.

He's pretty popular at school—courtesy of the soccer team—but there are very few people he hangs out with. He's not comfortable with his popularity, I can tell. Nico could have as many friends as he wants. Nico could hang out with anyone he wants to.

But he chooses me every time. I'm his best friend, and he's the same to me.

But there are moments (very rare, very spontaneous, split second moments) when maybe we're sitting a bit closer than normal, when his hand brushes up against mine, when he tells me how nice or pretty I look in my black Death to Barbie T-shirt. . .I think maybe, just maybe, I might want to be more.

Not that I would ever admit that to him.

!#$%^&*()

. . .

It was Friday afternoon. The school week was finally over and I was dreading the thought of going home for the weekend, again.

Don't get me wrong. I HATE school. I hate its teachers, its cliques, its expectations, its relentless cruelty and bullying (not that those ever affected me. A good right hook to the nose will clear that up pretty well.) and I hated learning. But I would rather spend a whole day there than one night with my mother.

That should say enough about my opinion of home.

It took me about an hour to get there; 20 minutes on the subway ride from Manhattan to Brooklyn and another 40 minutes of just walking around. It was around 5:00 PM and I was in no rush to see what gruesome scene would greet me back at my apartment.

Eventually, my growling stomach had made the decision for me and I made my way through the lonely streets to our cracked, worn out, white coated building.

I walked in, stopping for a quick sec to check our mail box.

"Junk, bills, junk, bills, more junk. . ." I said to myself, skimming through the mail and magazines as I walked up the stairs to the 4th floor. The elevator's been out of order for years and the landlord's too lazy to fix it.

"Latest issue of Vogue," I mentally gagged. Please, like my mom could ever afford those kinds of fashion. "More bi—" I froze mid-sentence. There was a long yellow envelope with my mother's name on it.

I had reached the faded green door of my apartment, which was hanging a bit sadly off its hinges and missing the number 4 in our address 413, by that time. I knew exactly what was in my hand. I was just surprised my mother hadn't gotten to it before I did.

It was a child support check from my father.

I folded it up and put it in my jeans. _Better in there where she can't waste it_, I thought before walking in.

I was greeted to the involuntarily familiar smell of cheap booze and stale Chinese takeout. Can you believe this is the place I call 'home'? 'Cause I can't.

It was a small, two bedroom, two bathroom apartment—nothing fancy. There was a tiny kitchenette, two couches and some throw pillows huddled around a TV that belonged in the 90's, and a lonely four seated dining table were all that made up the place.

And my mother, Kristine Grace, being the lazy miserable drunk she was, was sleeping on the couch in her waitress uniform with a bottle of Budweiser in her hand.

I snapped my fingers under her nose. She was out like a light bulb.

I shook my head, sighing in annoyance. But that wasn't even the best part! Our refrigerator was empty. . .excluding the beer and scotch bottles, of course.

I groaned loudly, slamming the fridge shut. Kristine shifted a bit on the couch.

With no food, no real parents, and boredom starting to creep in, I did the rational thing any hyper, overzealous, bordering punk, teenage girl would do. I laid down on my bed and called up Nico.

What? It was either that or homework. And Thalia Grace does NOT do homework on a Friday night.

My cell rang a few times. _"Hello?"_ Nico answered unsurely.

"Hey there, Death boy." I smirked.

"_Hey yourself, Pinecone face."_ I didn't fail to notice how his tone brightened a lot. _"So what's the special occasion? Or could you not go more than two hours without hearing my beautiful voice?"_ he added jokingly.

I scoffed into my cell. "In your dreams, di Angelo. I just wanted to ask what you're doing right now. I'm bored."

I think I heard him shrug. _"Listening to Skillet."_ He said casually.

I rolled my eyes, forgetting I was on the phone so he couldn't see me. "What is it with you and that band?"

"_Excuse me?"_ he said, sounding truly offended.

"I mean their good yeah. But there a Christian rock band and they can't even hold a wristband to my Green Day." I was a major fan of those guys, along with a few others, and Nico knew that.

"_Well I happen to think they're awesome. And their 'Awake' album was amazing, by the way."_

"Whatever," I smiled. "So, you alone too." I said. It sounded more like a statement than a question, but I hadn't intended it like that.

"_Yup,"_ he answered, popping the _p_. _"My Dad's still at the E.R. Said it was gonna be another late night again."_ He explained. He sounded a bit down. I didn't bother asking about him mom. She died when he was a little kid. Nico didn't like talking about it, and he never did tell me how it happened. His father, Dr. Hades di Angelo, worked at a local Emergency Room in Upper Manhattan. I met him a few times over at Nico's house.

"Hey," I said. "Be glad you have one that actually cares. I would kill to have a dad like yours."

He laughed. _"You serious?"_

"Come on, he's cool for a dad. He cooks for you-"

"_More like tries to."_ He interrupted. Ok, that was true, but food is still food.

"He actually gives a damn about what you do. He spends time with you. He's not a lazy drunk. And he gets to cut people open."

There was a brief moment of silence. _". . .he does make some damn good French fries."_

I cracked up laughing. "Yeah, he does."

Another short silence_. "Hey, you remember my sister, right?"_ His tone had changed quickly. He sounded really excited for some reason.

"Bianca?" I remembered.

"_Yeah,"_ he said. _"She's coming back to New York for the week. She finished her semester at Georgetown, and. . .she might've mentioned something about Linkin Park tickets for Saturday." He added smugly._

"SHUT! UP!" I exclaimed, grinning like an idiot. "Oh my God, you're so lucky!"

"_Yeah, the thing is. . .she bought three tickets."_

I furrowed my brow. "Nico, I don't think your dad will appreciate spending the night in a crowd of screaming hormonal Linkin Park fans."

I heard him groan loudly into the other line. _"Thalia, I was inviting YOU!"_ I resisted the urge to face-palm myself for my stupidity. _"Percy, Annabeth, and the others are going to some club after the big game tomorrow, so they can't go."_

I froze, my eyes widening. "They're going clubbing? How?"

"_Connor and Travis managed to get some fake ID's for everyone. You know how resourceful those guys can be."_ He answered.

I sighed. "I'm not sure about this, Nico. It's a bad idea."

"_Come on, Thals. They'll be fine without us. Besides, it's Linkin Park we're talking about! And my sister has been dying to meet you since I mentioned you."_

I raised a brow and grinned. "You been talking to your sister about me?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"_I. . .uh. . .I can explain. . .umm."_ He studded.

I laughed. "Don't worry, Death boy." I reassured him. "I'll be there. Call me and pick me up when it's time, ok?"

"_Yeah, sure. I'll pick you up at 9."_ He said, back to his excited, and relieved, tone.

"Ok, great. See ya then!"

"_See ya."_

I hung up first, feeling great and excited to see one of my all-time favorite bands. _With Nico, no less,_ I thought. I didn't mind his sister being there. The way he always talks about Bianca; it makes her sound like the sweetest person on Earth. Plus it would give me the chance to 'interrogate' her on what Nico's been saying about me.

Yeah, life going pretty good right then. . .until my stomach chose that exact moment to growl and I was pulled out of my bliss.

I groaned outwardly. Stupid Kristine being too lazy to buy some real food. Didn't she know lack of food kills? If that was the intended purpose, I definitely wouldn't have mind it working on herself.

Just then, my phone beeped again. It was a text message. A text from Jason:

'_Hey, I'm back. Want 2 hang out and talk smwhere?'_ It said. We rarely had the time to see each other anymore. Once a week, if we were lucky. I did miss him. . .what the Hell, why not?

'_Sounds gd' _I typed. _'You mind if we get smthing 2 eat?'_

'_How 'bout T.G.I.F in 20?'_ He replied.

'_Perfect! I'm leaving now, TTYL!'_

And with that, I jumped out of bed and ran out of my apartment. I wonder what he wanted to talk about? Must be something important. Oh well, I'll just have to see for myself.

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><p><strong>AN: I gotta say, this was my favorite chap to write so far. I LOVE Thalico fics, so I decided to put a lot in here. You also got a taste of my taste in music (I could listen to practically any genre of music and like it) 'Awake and Alive' and 'Hero' are my absolute fav songs for Skillet, and of course Linkin Park is awesome. I highly recommend you check them out.**

**Also if I get enough REVIEWS, I ****guarantee**** you'll have the next chap by this weekend instead of waiting another week or longer. So. . .REVIEW!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Ok, so I didn't get as many reviews as I was hoping for but that's fine now. The chap wasn't even ready until today and. . .it's shorter than usual :( But I didn't want to keep you guys waiting longer! I also wanted to try a new style and see what you guys thought. This is in 3****rd**** person POV. Anyway, Enjoy!**

**Review replies:**

**Darth Lumiya Skywalker: Don't worry, there's gonna be Jeyna. I'm just making it really complicated and angsty for later.**

**RowdyRuffBoysLover: No, this isn't a Jason/Percy thing. They're just the main characters.**

**kittyhawk09: Skillet is a rock band, but not necessarily heavy metal or stuff like that. You should check them out, they're great.**

**Alright, PEACE OUT PPL! Hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

><p><span>Take Me Higher<span>

Chapter 5

Thalia hitched a cab over to the restaurant and paid the driver. The T.G.I. Fridays was a quaint, young place. No one would ever notice two regular teenagers there in a city of almost 10 million. It was the perfect place for a short, quiet family get-together.

Jason was waiting for her outside, leaning back on his hot red Dodge Charger (a gift from Daddy Zeus for his 16th birthday.)

"Hey," Thalia said happily, closing the distance with a hug. He looked so. . .grown up in her eyes, with his close-cropped blonde hair, 6-foot tall muscular physique, and the fading scar on his lower lip. He was, in every sense of the word, a teen heart-throb. And it made her feel kind of old.

"Hey, Thals." He smiled, hugging back.

They broke the embrace. "You hungry?" he asked curiously.

"Ugh, I'm starving!" she complained, hand over her aching stomach.

He laughed. It was something the two of them hadn't heard in a long, long time. Jason seemed in a good mood, which wasn't like him. He was usually so subtle and nonchalant around his friends. Years of strict military school can do that to a person. Except when he's with his sister; around Thals, he could finally show his true colors and personality. He cherished these moments.

"Come on, let's eat before you faint on me."

"With pleasure." She grinned.

The two entered. A lady at the waiting room counter greeted them and asked where they wanted their table: smoking or non-smoking?

"Non-smoking." They both said quickly, maybe too quickly. Where there's smoking, there's most likely a bar, and where there's a bar, there's bound to be alcohol. They didn't need the sight of adults getting drunk to spoil their little reunion. The counter lady was giving them a look. "O-kaay, non-smoking table for two. Right this way, please." She directed.

Jason and Thalia took their seats on the plush red cushions. The interior of the place looked like you were walking into a warehouse at Universal Studios. Movie props and posters from the past 50 years were hung or nailed into the walls. There was a picture of a young Robert de Niro holding up a Tommy gun in a really nice suit above the table.

"What can I get for you?" the waitress asked uninterested.

"Just fries and a coke for me," Jason ordered. "Thalia?"

"Yeah, I'll have two cheeseburgers, two plates of mozzarella sticks, a large diet coke, and a Greek salad on the side."

She nodded wordlessly and left the siblings.

Jason just stared at the older girl, his eyebrows raised slightly to give a questioning look.

"What?" Thalia asked him.

He shook his head slowly, pretending to act cool. "Nothing. It's just when you said you were starving, I didn't think you'd have that big an appetite."

"Well I am a growing girl," she smirked, ruffling his blonde hair.

"Stop it!" he scowled, shoving her hands away. Though he secretly liked it when she did. Jason just didn't want others to stare at the weird relatives. "What am I, four to you?" he asked jokingly.

"Yes," she choked, biting back a laugh at his childish reaction. "And you always will be."

He scowled again.

"So. . .tell me," she began. "Anything new going on at Westover? Anything involving a girl named Reyna?" she added with a wink. Thalia knew about some of the kids from his school, mostly because of Jason. You should see how he talks about 'Reyna', his eyes get all distant and glassy in a way that tells you there's definitely something there besides friendship.

Jason just hoped he wasn't as red as his face felt right then. "Thalia! Seriously, we're just friends! We're not dating. We're not involved in anything together. And we are NOT all lovey-dovey around each other."

To her, it sounded like he was trying to convince himself of that. But she backed off and held her hands up in defense. "Ok, ok. Whatever you say, brother." Though her smirk did look bigger as she said it.

They continued like that for what seemed like hours of joking, teasing, and annoying the Hell out of each other. At one point they had stooped so low as to play a card game with the colored sugar packets for the fun of it, before their food finally arrived.

Thalia dug in before her plate even hit the table, much to the shock of the waitress who happened to be holding it. She quickly placed the other meals before scurrying off.

Jason was almost speechless. "God, Thalia, slow down. We've got all night to stay here."

She paused briefly to look at him. "What?" she retorted, inhaling her diet coke next.

"You're eating like you've never seen food before. Doesn't mom ever feed you?"

It was then she slowed down, and her smile instantly fell as she did. Her eyes refusing to meet with his now. Was it him or did the air seem to get a lot tenser now? That's when it dawned on Jason what he had said.

"Oh. . ." was the best he could think of. "Thals. . .why didn't you say anything?"

She looked back up, a spark of defiance visible in her electric blue eyes. That look always made him feel a bit uneasy around her. It was never a good idea to be around her with that look on. "I can take care of myself, Jason. Always have, always will. You don't have to worry about me."

He sighed in frustration. "I'm your brother; I have to worry about you." There was a short silence between the two, until he asked, "How long has this been going on?"

She turned her head away, facing the young Robert de Niro picture and not saying a word. But the message seemed to get across: too long. It's been happening for far too long.

"I'm sorry," Jason said. He sounded so sincere it hurt her to not look at him.

But she shook her head instead. "Don't apologize for her; you have nothing to do with this. It's all because of her anyway. She thinks if she doesn't eat maybe she'll lose weight or something. She's probably already anorexic."

He sighed again and picked at a French fry. Thalia went back to her food too, but not as ferociously as she had before.

They ate in silence, but Jason wasn't that hungry. He wanted to know more about what was going on with his older sister. And. . .he did have one other thing to take care of.

"Look," he began. "I know mom can be a hassle sometimes. . ."

_That was an understatement,_ Thalia thought.

"But if you ever need anything, just call me, ok? I'll be there for you."

The assurance brought a smile back to her lips. It was sweet that he cared so much, and the fact that _he_ was the younger of the two made it even more heartwarming. But Thalia Grace didn't need help with something she's had to face for the past 11 years.

"Thanks, Jason," she said. "For everything."

He nodded with a smile. "Anytime."

That's when an idea popped into her head, and her eyes sparkling at the bright idea. "Actually. . .there is one favor I need you to do," she reached into her jeans and handed him the long yellow envelope from the mail. "I need you to cash this in for me."

He took it, looking back and forth between the paper and his sister skeptically. "Thalia, it's a check for mom."

"So. . .?"

"So I can't do that if it's written in her name. And what do want with it, anyway?"

She sighed. "It's not about what I want. It's about stopping her from getting what she wants." Jason fell back on his cushion in disbelief. "Don't be so surprised," she scolded. "You know she'll end up blowing it of in the first bar or first six pack she sees. Why let Dad's money, which is supposed to support me, be given to that bitch."

He ran his hand through his hair, pondering over her logic. _She had a point_, he thought. _Eventually she'll use it for whatever shit comes her way. It's not like she uses it to keep Thalia alive._ He nodded. "Ok, I'll see what I can do."

She grinned widely. "But on one condition." He quickly added.

"Name it."

Jason took a deep breath; this is what he's been meaning to ask her for a while. He also knew this wasn't going to be easy to demand from her. Thalia could be the most stubborn person on Earth when she wants to be. But he had to at least give it a try.

". . .I want you to come by the game tomorrow. Watch us, see us in action."

Her grin faded again. "Jason. . .I don't know about this. It's not going to be friendly when you two meet."

"Nothing's going to happen this time." He reassured. "Can you just give it a try? It's been a full year and you haven't been to a game since. I miss having you around."

It was hard to read her expression, but there was one thing he noticed from it: indecision.

Finally, she said nonchalantly, "You know I'm not going to be on your side this time. No one at Goode can ever know we're related."

He nodded. "I know, but I just want you there. You make me feel a lot less hated around your 'friends' anyway." He joked.

She chuckled. "Yeah, they can be pretty harsh."

"So is it a deal?"

She nodded. "Deal."

He grinned as they finished their food together. Jason paid for them, much to the annoyance of his sister, and drove her back to her apartment in Brooklyn before heading home.

He had a match to prepare for. And he'd be lying to himself if he didn't think about the million things that could, and most likely would, go wrong. He had no idea what was in store.

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><p><strong>AN: Please REVIEW! I ****need ****your opinion on this! Was it good? Bad? Ok? I have to know if I should continue like this or if you like my other style.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Ok people, this is part 1 of 2 chapters featuring the dreaded soccer game! Sadly, it's all what happens before the match, but it's really, really important! The next one will be the actual game. And one last thing. . .WHY THE HELL DOES EVERYONE KEEP FREAKIN' ASKING ABOUT THE PAIRINGS! Gods, have I not answered those already? Seriously? You want the answer, you can look back at the other authors notes. WHICH YOU SHOULD'VE LOOKED AT!**

**Anyways, I apologize for my ranting to those who are reading this. Not really in the best of moods at the moment, so I'm sorry. But still, enjoy the chap! :) Peace out ppl!**

**P.s. Rick Riordan is the genius, not me sadly :(**

* * *

><p><span>Take Me Higher<span>

Chapter 6: The Match, Part 1

**Percy J. POV**

I woke up to the very thing every teenage boy dreads hearing on a Saturday morning: my damn alarm clock. I groaned inwardly. _Can those things be any more annoying? _I thought, looking to see the time. It was 11 A.M; which left me with only 2 more hours till my personal Dooms-day: the school soccer game.

I slammed my hand down on the dream killing machine and reluctantly crawled out of bed, rubbing my eyes a few times to try staying awake. Whether I was conscious of it or not (I barely remember half the things I do in the morning before I take a shower), I reached for the small of my back, running a finger along the white 3 inch scar that was there. It had fully healed a long time ago, but the mark would stay with me for years to come. I shivered at the touch and the memories that were coming back to mind. But I forced myself not to go there again, not to remember the events that caused it. I needed a distraction.

The first thing that hit me was the smell of cigar smoke. It was a lasting feature of my room since my step father, Gabe, also used it as his private _'office'_—forgetting the fact that the man hasn't ever worked a day in his damn life.

I hated the smell. It always made me feel nauseous and light-headed as a kid, but it was either that or sleeping in the living room with my step-dad's body odor of day old garlic pizza and sweaty gym shorts intoxicating the air. I decided to choose the lesser of two evils.

I walked out of my room wearing simple boxers with a white Tee and headed for the bathroom. Gabe was on the couch watching ESPN with a beer bottle in his hand. _Really, Gabe? Really? _I thought. _Not even noon yet and you're half way in a bottle?_

"Morning, brain boy." My lazy step-dad greeted, not taking his eyes off the TV. He must've sensed the death glare I was sending him. Surprisingly, despite his lack of hygiene, he had a good radar for these kinds of things. Hell, with all the poker games he's played, he could sniff out cash like a blood-hound.

"Where's my mom?" I asked. I hated being alone with Gabe in the house, mostly because I couldn't hold myself back from breaking his nose if he made another wise-crack joke.

"At work," he replied simply. "She said she's sorry to miss your game and can't drive you there or whatever."

I raised a brow. "Then how am I supposed to get to my game?"

He shrugged. "Better find your own ride then, Ronaldo." He joked. "'Cause I ain't letting you anywhere near my Camaro again."

I continued my death glare a bit longer before shaking it off in annoyance and heading for the shower. I'd just have to call Travis to pick him up or something.

The hot water relaxed me, and I sure as Hell needed relaxing. I loved the water; whether it was swimming in the beach or just taking a quick shower. It cleared my head of the memories. It almost made me forget everything that was riding on this game. Almost.

Once I finished, I got out and quickly changed into my tight orange jersey and shorts, tied up my black Adidas cleats and called the Stolls to come pick me up in the process.

"Break a leg, brain boy!" Gabe called with fake enthusiasm as I walked out of the apartment. Though by the sound of it, it seemed like he was wishing for exactly that.

!#$%^&*()

. . .

We reached the parking lot just outside the Field of Mars and got out of the Stoll bros blue Toyota 4Runner.

The field was pretty big for a regular high school match. We were at least 200 ft from the stadium (and it was a big stadium, mind you. Like college basketball big) and we could already hear the screaming crowds. There was also the fact that we were still an hour early.

Travis whistled, looking up at the place. "Big crowd."

Connor gave him the patented Stoll smirk. "Don't worry, bro. I'm sure you'll still be able to see Katie in the stands. And give her a wink from me when you do." He gave him one to prove his point.

Travis rolled his eyes at the younger brother. "Why does everyone think we like each other?" he complained. "I mean, I tee-peed her house, for God sake!"

"Not to mention the chocolate bunny redecorating on Easter," I added, biting back a laugh. "That, my friend, was some of your best work."

"Thank you!" Travis replied, finally glad there was someone who didn't he was head over heels in love with Katie. "See bro, Percy here knows what I'm talking about."

"Oh no, you're totally crushing on her, dude. That's pretty obvious to everyone," I grinned. "You're just in serious denial."

He groaned loudly and shook his head. "You guys are such assholes."

Connor and I cracked up laughing, enjoying his emotional torment. It was fun. And it kept our minds off the big game with all the pressures and expectations and bitterness forced on us because of it. Our school was counting on us to kick some Roman ass, but we knew better; they were one Hell of a team and this was gonna be anything but easy. We needed a carefree moment.

The moment was lost however, when a certain someone decided to ruin the fun.

"Ladies, ladies, calm down. You're all pretty." A rough voice said behind us.

We turned, and my smile turned into an unwelcoming sneer at the new guest.

"Ares." I said, not hiding an ounce of the hate I had for the man in my tone.

The buff, crew cut, sunglass wearing bastard was there in the flesh, leaning against his red Harley Davidson in a camouflage jacket and black leather army boot.

"Good to see you too, punk." The biker greeted. "How's life been treating ya? Still with that blonde bookworm of yours?" he whistled. "She sure is a keeper, ain't she?"

I glared at him. Nobody talks about Annabeth like that to me and gets away with it.

"What's it to ya?" I retorted, crossing my arms. "I thought you were getting your ass handed to ya somewhere in Iraq? Things not goin well enough there?" I asked sarcastically.

"It's called a withdrawal, dip-shit. And you wouldn't last a week there. They'd eat you up like Tortilla chips."

I raised a brow. "The big bad Marine Corporal running from a fight, now? You must be losing your edge, Ares."

He laughed, but it sounded hollow and cold. "In your pathetic little dreams," He sneered. "But I ain't here to bad mouth a kid like you; I'm here for business. And those two aren't part of it." He gave a nod towards the Stolls. "This is a private meeting."

I looked to my teammates, a soft expression on. "You guys go ahead and practice. I'll catch up with you soon."

They didn't look happy about it, not to mention downright suspicious, but they left with a nod. "Don't take too long, man." Connor said.

I nodded, before turning back to Ares, my glare not dropping the slightest. "What do you want?" I asked him.

He grinned and pushed up his tinted black sunglasses. "There's a huge betting ring going on in Manhattan. 'Who's going to win the soccer game of the decade?' This is big money, kid. Not some backroom amateur high schoolers trying to make a few bucks with some pocket change. I put a lot down riding on this game. And what makes it even better. . .is that I just happen to know one of the team captains. What a coincidence."

I narrowed my eyes at him, balling my fists. "You're asking me to throw this game?" I said with realization.

He said nothing, but his grin had widened greatly. Boy, did I want to wipe it off his face.

My blood was boiling. Here he was, _the _biggest jerk I've ever met in my life (which is saying a lot since I know quite a few) telling me to throw away the most important game of my life. And for what? Making him more money? He didn't own me, and I didn't owe him anything. Ares was just a punk from the streets who never grew up. There was no way in Hell I was going to give him the satisfaction.

"Well you can forget it," I spat. "'Cause I'm not losing this game. Not for you. Not for the Romans. Not for anyone."

He chuckled. He actually chuckled! "You're forgetting, kid. This isn't the first time you've blown a game. I know you're saving up the money."

My heart almost stopped. '_How did he know. . .' _was my first thought. I never told anyone. I always got away clean. I had only done it a few times because I needed the cash. It practically pays for my high school education.

"And if you don't throw it. . ." Ares added, leaning in close and whispered "Everyone's gonna know about it. But don't worry, kid. I give credit where credit is due; you'll be given your fair share of the dough. Now get going, and don't disappoint me."

I glared at him one last time, but it hardly did any good. So I ran off. The only thing on my mind. . .was the thought that my day couldn't possibly get more screwed up than it already is.

I had no idea how wrong I was about to be.

!#$%^&*()

. . .

**Annabeth C. POV**

It was a great day for a game. The temperature was just right for the spring, not too windy, and a clear blue sky up above bringing in some beautiful sunshine. Ugh, now I sound like an anchor women on TV. How cliché.

Anyway, it really looked like a great day. I was in the stands of the open air stadium with the other girls: Juniper—who was minding her own business with Grover beside her—, Katie, Silena, and Piper. If you were wondering, we _had_ to get here early if we wanted good seats to the biggest game of the decade, despite the fact that there was no title on the line and the only thing each team was bringing was their school's pride. Strangely, that seemed to matter more than a silly trophy to both sides fans.

It was crystal clear which people were rooting for which team. Spartan fans decked out in the orange and green jerseys, hats, flags, and face paints were on the left side of the entrance, generally loud talkers while some were banging at drums a few people decided to bring with them (why though is anybody's guess). The Roman fans were dressed in purple and gold, making them all look like some sort of royalty, and were calmer and quieter compared to the opposing fans, located on the right side of the entrance.

The only things out of place with the scene were the rings of sharp, barbed-wire lined around the stands to separate people from players, with more lined across the fence dividing Spartan fans from Roman fans, and the dozens of security guards patrolling the stands like watchdogs.

But I didn't think for a second that those could stop whatever demons that could get when all Hell broke loose.

"Wow," Piper said, completely wide-eyed at the sight of the crowds inside. Almost every seat was taken and people had to start squeezing to fit the oncoming crowd. "You guys sure do take this game seriously."

Me and the girls laughed shortly. "And this is just a friendly match," Katie said. "Wait till you see the championship one. The school practically implodes from the fanfare."

Piper looked at her shocked. "Gosh, I never took you guys for the preppy type."

"Oh, we're not," Silena replied. "Well, at least _they're_ not." She corrected, looking at me and Katie. "We like to call it. . .patriotic."

I smirked. "But it's what's after the game where the real fun begins." The other two girls nodded in agreement, getting a faraway look in their eyes.

Piper was staring at us like we were Siamese twins or something. "What do you mean?"

Silena sighed dreamily. "Us and the guys are going to a new club downtown later tonight. I heard it's exclusive and, like, really popular. We even had to get fake ID's but it's definitely worth the trouble."

"Wow. . ." Piper said, trailing off. "Umm, good for you guys." Was it me, or did her tone sound truly depressed for a second? She was avoiding eye contact and was just staring out in deep thought. Something sad must've been on her mind because her eye color was turning a navy blue.

"Well," I started. "You're more than welcome to come with us if you want. It's going to be a blast, especially with the guys there."

The smallest trace of a smile was coming up across her lips, but she still seemed a bit hesitant. I understood. I knew what it was like being the new girl and just getting to socialize with new people. I wasn't always what you'd call a 'social butterfly' when I was younger, but I knew how to pick my friends. Slowly, she'll just have to come out of her shell.

"I don't know, guys. . ." she answered. "Are you sure it's a good idea?"

"Of course it's not a good idea," Katie said. "The Stoll's are the ones who are driving us there."

We cracked up laughing. "Well, if you decide to come, Piper," Silena said, typing something into her BlackBerry. "We're all meeting at my house at 9, so here's the address." She then showed her the directions on her phone.

"Great, I'll be there."

"Hey, guys!" Juniper called, pointing to the field. We followed her glance. The players were coming out of the locker rooms and onto the field. The whole crowd went wild, standing up and screaming at the top of their lungs at the sight.

It was finally time to get this party started.

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><p><strong>AN: I'm not really happy with this chapter. I kind of rushed it. . .a lot. But there was no way I could keep you guys waiting longer. Yeah, you people mean that much to me. So show some love and just REVIEW. It would help and brighten my day to no end. Also, this is my longest chapter ever! Just for this story though.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey, everyone. I know, I know. I took a while with this chapter. . .again. But it was hard, and I'm really no professional sports commentator or something, so I'm really happy with how this turned out. Can you find it in your hearts to forgive me? Of course you can, I bring many twists. . .mwahahahah! In other news. . .I have turned my back on Linkin Park! They are dead to me! Them and their new techno/rap/'shouldn't even be considered rock' style! Don't get me wrong, I LOVE house and rap music at parties and stuff but mixed with rock? And Linkin Park? That's a big 'no no'. I'm more into metal, and classical, or even alternative which isn't that bad. Anyway, Enjoy!**

**P.s. Rick Riordan is the genius, not me.**

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><p><span>Take Me Higher<span>

Chapter 7: The Match, Part 2

**Percy J. POV**

Coach Hedge's next words in the locker room were _really_ encouraging.

"Alright, cupcakes. Gather round!" he called, much louder than was necessary.

Us guys unfortunate enough to be in there—Nico, Beckendorf, Connor, Travis, Malcolm, Lee Fletcher, Michael Yew, and me along with a few others—got up from the benches and huddled around Hedge. He looked dead serious. If it wasn't for the fact that he was practically five feet zero and a bit out of shape, he might've been intimidating. It's hard to cower in fear when you could see over the guy's head.

But, despite his _short-_comings (yes, pun intended); Coach Hedge was a beast at sports. He practically coached all of Goode High's teams, not to mention all the gym classes. It wasn't exactly the most desirable of jobs to take up. But he took on whatever sports and training related job the school threw at him. And he was doing a pretty good job. . .so far, at least. He was always complaining about how the work wasn't 'challenging' enough for him.

"Now," Coach continued. "I know all you little cupcakes are excited for some long awaited ass-kicking. And I'll be damned if we're gonna let those fancy uniformed pretty boys get the better of us."

We all howled and cheered in agreement, muscles flexing and adrenaline racing, everyone was more than psyched for this game. Everyone except me. I had a deal to keep with Ares. But I didn't know if I could follow through with it, not with something this important. I was their Captain, and everyone was going to look to me for a win against our greatest rival and nemesis. I didn't want to disappoint them, especially my friends and Annabeth, but Ares had dirt on me. Now if _that_ got out, that would disappoint a lot more people.

I'd have to go through with the deal. But that didn't mean I liked it.

Coach Hedge just rolled his eyes and scowled, blowing his shiny chrome whistle, again much louder than was necessary, for us to calm down. "But I gotta say this, boys. No funny business today. I mean it. Any one of you wise guys so much as ask a Roman to pull your finger—that goes especially for you Three Stooges—" his beady, accusatory glare directed at the Stoll brothers and Leo. "And Mr. D is gonna have both our heads hanging on a wall next to Seymour in his vineyard."

Like I said, _really _encouraging.

The three said Stooges looked on in mocked offense. "Coach we would never do something so trivial!" Travis reassured dramatically.

"I'll say," Leo agreed. "That gag is old enough to be our granddad. Shaving cream and toothpaste, though? Never gets old." Connor and Travis smirked, nodding in approval.

The coach didn't look amused. "Valdez," he glared, his voice slowly rising in warning.

Connor just clapped him on the back. "Relax, Coach. We'll on our best behavior. Scouts honor." He assured.

Beckendorf furrowed his brows. "I thought you got kicked out of the boy scouts?"

Connor was actually giving him a death glare now. "I didn't get kicked out. That was just a misunderstanding."

Nico bit back a laugh. "No, because getting manhandled out of the group for raiding the girl scouts closets for 'unmentionables' and stealing 20 boxes of cookies doesn't count as getting kicked out in some states."

Travis cracked up laughing, reminiscing at the young teen moments they had. "Ya know he has a point, bro."

"Guys, hello?" Michael Yew interrupted. "Important game, here. Whole school counting on us, remember?"

Coach Hedge just nodded in agreement. "Alright, cupcakes. Yew's correct. Just remember, Jackson is Captain. Follow his plays. And kick some Roman ass. But try not to get on Mr. D's bad side. Break!"

And with that, we ran out of the locker room and rushed to the field.

!#$%^&*()

**Jason G. POV**

The locker room was pretty quiet. Dakota was busy tying up his cleats. Bobby was strapping his shin guards on. Octavian, in one of his rare not douche-ish moments, was just practicing balancing a soccer ball on his feet so it didn't hit the ground. And. . .my friend, Frank Zhang, was freaking out.

He was fidgeting.

Noticeably.

So noticeably that it was almost a miracle the Octavian wasn't paying attention. The guy could be pretty harsh when he wanted to be. Hell, I still wanted to deck him over the head after what he said to me a week ago. Anyway, back to Frank.

He was looking up at me with that baby cherub face of his. It made him look so much younger than he was.

"You think she's up there now?" he asked, sounding desperate for an answer. "What if something bad happened to her and she couldn't make it? What if she just doesn't want to come watch us? I could live with her stuck in traffic or a family emergency, but not wanting to come. . ."

I groaned inwardly before taking a deep breath. "Frank, seriously man. You're really over thinking this right now. And honestly, you're gonna start making me freak out too."

He looked a bit ashamed now. "Hey, Jason, sorry man. I know this is a big game and everything, and you're the Captain so it's already pressing enough as it is. I shouldn't be putting this on you."

I gave him a lopsided grin. "Don't sweat it, Frank. Just relax, ok? Hazel's gonna be here. I personally told Reyna to keep an eye out for her. Nothing—and I mean nothing—gets past that girl."

He returned a shy grin. It wasn't much, but it was an improvement. "It's just. . .I like Hazel. A lot." His face was turning sad now. "But what if she doesn't feel the same?"

I was saved from the uncomfortable subject by the sound of the coach's whistle. I almost sighed in relief. Don't get me wrong, I mean, I like Frank. He was a good kid and a great goalie, even if he was a bit clumsy off the field. But I had my own problems to deal with at the moment: winning this game, keeping Octavian in check, and did I mention winning the biggest game of my life? Besides, the coach _was _his Dad. I'm sure 'girl troubles' was up there on the list of father/son conversations to have. . .at least, I think it is. I wouldn't know.

Coach Mars entered the room in all his crew cut, 6 feet 4 muscular, intimidating 'makes grown men go cry to momma' frame. His eyes were hidden behind his thick, pitch black sunglasses.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and stood at attention, Frank and I included.

Coach Mars was giving us a weird look. "Well, what are you boys waiting for? Christmas?" he sounded irritated. "Get your asses out there and show those Spartans what real competition is!"

We all quickly rushed out. Only problem was he blocked the way for Frank and me. His expression softened a bit once we were alone, and then he actually smiled. "You're doing a good job, Grace. Don't let any punk tell ya you're not. Just remember, you're Captain for a reason. And Lt. Lupa _will_ be watching."

I honestly tried hard not to look surprised.

I failed.

Miserably.

Coach Mars almost never gave compliments, let alone encouragement. He just screamed that tough love father figure at first glance.

"Umm. . .thank you, sir. That, uh, that means a lot to me." I said hesitated.

His grin widened. "Don't mention it, kiddo. Now get out there and win. I need to have a talk with my boy here."

I looked to Frank and he gave me an unsure nod. "See you in a minute." He said.

I nodded back and walked out. He was right. I had to game to win. And it was do or die now.

Do or die. That was the Roman way.

!#$%^&*()

**Third Person POV**

The crowd's response to the players entry was euphoric. Every student, staff member, and spectator was at their feet screaming into cheers at the top of their lungs as the two teams entered the soft green pitch.

The two rivals were finally face to face and sizing each other up. Something they hadn't done in over a year for many reasons. The security guards surrounding the stadium with their barbed wire fencing were starting to look a bit nervous. You could practically cut through the mutual animosity in the air with a knife. But they had both been warned of the consequences. No one was willing to risk some crazy stupid stunt over something so petty. Or maybe not.

The zebra striped referee called the two Captains and Coaches over for a coin toss.

It was the first time Jason Grace and Percy Jackson had met. And, judging by the staring contest going on between the two, it was intense.

The Romans called heads, and ended up getting the ball first; causing the Westover side to erupt in triumph, and much to the annoyance of the Goode side.

The coaches then called for a team huddle.

"Cupcakes, listen up." Hedge called. "Alright, it's their ball. I want you 10 to be in form 4-3-2-1. Hold the lines, and don't let the ball past you. Jackson, Valdez, and Fletcher will keep them bogged down in midfield. Once they do, go for the steal."

On the other end of the field, Coach Mars was saying, "Remember this, boys. This is _our _house. This is_ our_ field. And this is _our _time. We've got the ball. So, keep it God damn it! I want you in form 4-4-2. You gotta be more than just fast now. Hell, go blitzkrieg on their Spartan asses! If you can't punch through the defenders, kick it high or back. Someone better well be there to catch the damn ball." That last statement sounded more of a threat than a piece of advice.

All the players nodded and marched to the field, getting into formation.

And with the whistle sounding, the game began, and the Spartans kicked off to the Romans.

Dakota gained possession of the ball and passed it off to Octavian. The skinny blonde then broke into a full out sprint with the ball. He swerved between opposing players left and right, none of whom were match for someone with his speed. But that was before he ran into the brick wall named Percy Jackson in the midfield. No matter what he did, Percy found a way of staying on him, making sure he couldn't get through alone. His fellow teammates were being occupied by the Spartan players who were staying close to them and ready to go for a steal. Octavian didn't have much of a choice, but he saw Jason doing deep into the field, not far from the goal post. He took a long shot and the black doted ball sailed through the air into the waiting feet of the Roman Captain. Despite the mutual hate, they were still part of the same team, and they were always stronger united than divided. It wasn't a time for petty jealousies or misconceptions; they'd work on that after their win.

Jason broke into a sprint. There was still a bit of distance between him and the goal post, and it would've been a bit risky to take a shot from that far away. He opted for a closer shot. Jason raced through the three defenders as if they were amateurs, while Octavian was circling around from the other side. Jason was nearing the post now, the goalie in striking range and was looking poised and ready to stop him at all cost. He was a big man, with big hands. But he had to try making a shot. Until he saw Octavian. The goalie hadn't seen him yet, his sights clearly set on him. At the last second, Jason changed direction and passed the ball chest level to his mate. Beckendorf noticed it, making an on instinct assessment, took a pre-emptive dive just as Octavian leaped forward and head-butted the ball toward the goal nest.

The ball ricocheted off Beckendorf's massive feet and went out of bounds. All the Spartans looked up to the scoreboard, all thinking the same thing; it was still 0-0 but a short 4 minutes had gone by in a 90 minute match. This was gonna be a _long, long _game, they thought.

Percy and Nico both offered Beckendorf a hand, which he took gratefully.

"They too fast man," The giant complained. "I don't know how many more of those saves I've got in me."

The two other teens shared a knowing glance. "Leave that to me and the Stoll's," Nico smirked. "We'll show 'em what fast really is."

Percy nodded. "Just get the ball and pass it off. They'll handle the rest."

He nodded.

The Romans kicked the ball from the corner. Both teams were pushing and shoving so they could get control of the ball. But it was Beckendorf again who got the save and threw it out to Travis who was out in midfield. The trio of Nico and the Stoll's worked together like clockwork: quick tactics and quicker passes left the Roman defenders fuming, frustrated, and irritated as Hell. The Stoll Brothers taunting didn't seem to be helping, though they were lucky they weren't getting yellow carded for some of the more colorful language they chose. The three were nearing the goal post, and a ready but horrified Frank was all that stood in the way. They passed the ball back to each other in random fashions, trying to mess with Franks head as they got closer. Finally, the ball settled with Connor and he took a shot aiming for the lower right corner. Frank, in a desperate frenzy, went for a low dive in the balls direction.

It shot directly into his hands. The score was still 0-0 and it was the 11th minute. Many players on both sides groaned outwardly. They knew their own side needed the win, but they also knew the other team would run themselves into the ground before letting the other take home the glory. This was a matter of pride. And pride isn't something that lets others try to dominate you.

That was the ebb and flow the match played out on as the clock kept ticking; a goalless draw with both sides giving their all for an early advantage and keeping possession. The half time 45-minute mark could not have come at a better time in the players point of view. The coaches weren't mad. You could see as clear as day the determination and effort the sides were putting into this game, which was definitely living up to the hype as the greatest game of the decade.

"This game's never gonna end." Complained an exhausted Bobby. Everyone was dripping wet in sweat and were chugging down water faster than a pack of elephants.

"He's right." Octavian agreed. "We keep it up, it'll go into over-time, then into penalties, and then it'll be a Goddamn tie! We've worked too hard for that to happen."

Jason looked on into the crowds, breathing heavily. "They'll slip up, trust me."

"You don't know that, Grace," Octavian challenged. "Those Spartans have a better Captain and a better—"

"Octavian!" Jason shouted. "Shut up. They _will_ slip up, sooner or later. They'll slip up."

Octavian was too weak to even make a comeback to that.

And as quickly as it came, half time ended and the players were back on the field. Tiredness was seeping into their performances now. More steals were given away, defenders started slacking, and forwards weren't as fast or agile anymore.

But a breakthrough finally came. And it came down hard in the 63rd minute. One of the Spartan defenders was practically run through by a Roman forward who was handling the ball, and Jason Grace was perfectly positioned to take advantage of the opening. He cut through fast and sprinted his way toward the goal post and his teammate. The forward was all clear for the shot and only Beckendorf stood in the way of the first point. He barreled toward him at top speed with the ball at foot, and then he slowed to take the shot. Beckendort took an early dive to the upper right corner, but the forward never even kicked the ball. He faked it and the Spartans and their fans watched in horror as Jason came up from behind and netted the ball in at the lower left corner.

The Roman fans screamed in celebration at the top of their lungs. Jason ran around the field in a victory run, grinning as wide as lips could bare it and almost coming to tears at the end of the intense moments, before jumping into a group hug/dog pile (whichever way you choose look at it) all his fellow teammates joined into. The score was 1-0.

The Spartan fans were up on their feet in shock and disbelief. Many people ran their hands through their hair, solemn expressions covering most of their faces. Percy watched them all, and he swore a part of himself just died inside. He didn't even have to make the deal with Ares for him to win his bet. He didn't have to throw the game away for him to win his bet. That's what hurt most. He might've been able to stand a loss when he threw a game, but not this. That they were just naturally better than them, he thought.

But Nico shook his head. His expression was dead serious, but most of all. . .it was defiant. "This isn't over." Was all he said before marching back into position.

The Spartans got possession of the ball, but Nico surprised many people when he just took it from his own teammate and sprinted up the field. "What are you doing, man?" Lee Fletcher called out to him. This wasn't the play we were running, but it seemed Nico had other ideas. He ran like the wind, faster than any of us had thought possible after over an hour of excruciating game time, but he just kept on running. Many fans were on their feet again, but this was different. It was in anticipation. They could practically smell a goal coming in the air.

Nico jumped over players who tried to steal with a slide, spun around them when he came up close, and shot the ball between the defenders legs. Frank was in his sights and he made a run for him. Frank, sensing the danger, ran toward him to stop the ball.

Both were running fast and it looked like they were going to collide. Frank went for a slide to get the ball away from Nico, but he countered by kicking it up off the ground. And then they crashed, both falling to the floor.

The ball continued its direction however, and made it into the scoring net.

It was the Spartan fans turn to scream in celebration. Hell, a tie was better than a loss.

But it didn't last long. Everyone was looking at Nico now, who was withering in pain on the grass grasping onto his right ankle like he'd just broken a bone. Realization then dawned: Frank's cleats had crashed into Nico's heels.

"NICO!" Thalia screamed in the stands out loud. No one had even noticed her there because she wanted to keep a low profile. Thalia never went to these games after last year, but there she was. She didn't care now that people knew it was her; she just had to get to Nico as fast as possible.

Medics immediately went onto the field and checked him out. They got the stretchers ready, which was never a good sign, placed him on it, and carried him away back inside the locker room.

The tension in the air didn't seem to dim for a second. Percy was furious. A Roman had just injured his best friend in one of the most painful ways. There was going to be blood, and he didn't care about consequences anymore.

He ran over to Frank, who looked like he was horrified of Percy, and started shouting at him. "Hey! What's your f***** problem!" he said to Frank. "You just took out my friend's leg, you a******!"

But Jason stepped in between them, putting his hands on Percy's so he'd back off. "Hey! Calm down, man. It was an accident!"

"Get off me!" he shouted, pushing Jason back.

"Hey, don't you touch me!" Jason warned, pushing Percy.

That's when Percy threw the first punch, aiming for Jason's jaw.

Jason was reeling, but now he was blind with pure uncontrolled fury. He tackled Percy to the ground and started throwing punches at him. Soon enough, other teammates joined in a brawl of their own with the opposing ones. The crowd cheered, cursed, and jumped over the boundaries onto the field to help. Even Coach Mars was wailing on Coach Hedge like he was a sack of potatoes. It was utter chaos, and the guards were completely overwhelmed.

Percy flipped Jason over so he was on his back before throwing more punches. Jason reversed and started punching him again.

It took an hour, 5 calls for reinforcements, and another 1000 guards before the brawling had completely stopped and everyone had been forced onto their bus, car, or taxi on home.

Now _that_ was how you end a soccer game.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ahhh, finally! Well, hope you guys enjoyed that. I know I did ;) And by the way, Ares and Mars are two different people if you were wondering. Pleeeeeeaaaaaase REVIEW! How can you not after a chapter like this? REVIEW, DAMN IT! No offense, just still a bit hyped off this fight scene, sorry about that. Also, this is 4000 words! Wahoo, longest chapter yet in this story!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hey guys. . .I know I took long. But! I have a good excuse now. I had SAT's on Saturday and I did great! So now that that's over with, I only have 2 more weeks of school then I'm free forever! Until October. :( Anyway, here is your much anticipated update. Enjoy!**

**P.s. Rick Riordan is the genius, not me.**

* * *

><p><span>Take Me Higher<span>

Chapter 8: The Fallout

**Third Person POV**

Percy Jackson was no stranger to causing trouble. He's been branded a troubled kid, a rebel, a thief, and even a terrorist in his short 17 year old life. Most kids haven't seen the inside of a detention room the way he has (there's only oh so many things one could do inside the 4-walled palace of boredom. One of them, was counting the ceiling tiles). So causing a massive fight at the biggest game of the decade was NOT the worst thing he could've done.

Jesus, it wasn't the worst thing he could've done _that day_!

But this definitely had to take the cake in terms of punishment.

The whole soccer team was in Mr. D's office back at Goode after being oh so gently (manhandled) by two dozen guards into a bus. Everyone was there on a Saturday afternoon in their ripped, torn, green and orange uniforms, most hanging their heads down in shame like little children. No one had escaped the carnage unscathed. Blood stains and bruise marks were clearly visible on them. A few had got out with only some minor scuffles like Michael Yew, Lee Fletcher, Malcolm, and Beckendorf ('cause no one messed with the big man without getting bruised and battered first). The Stoll's were a bit beaten but doing alright; Travis only had a bloody nose and a couple broken fingers, now bandaged in a cast, while Connor had a nasty bump on his temple and was missing a front tooth. Even Coach Hedge didn't get away without a mark. He was currently sitting down on one of the comfy sofa-chairs resting an ice pack on his forehead.

But it was poor ole Percy who was the worst off. His lip was busted; he had bruises all over his arms and cheeks, not to mention a killer tooth ache, and maybe even a cracked rib or two.

But he was standing tall and defiant in the face of his principal. He never did like the man. Always so rude, bitching about how troublesome kids were these days. Not that today's actions had helped convince him otherwise, but still. Mr. D was a cheeky old man.

The tiger-striped Hawaiian shirt and black jogging shorts he was wearing did however lighten the atmosphere a bit—which begged the question of what the HELL did Mr. D do over his weekends? But no one was in the mood to point out his horrifying fashion sense. They'd cross that bridge when they came to it.

Mr. D sat behind his desk just shaking his head, and giving the boys an incredulous look. "Unbelievable," he muttered loudly. "Two years in a row and you all still don't know how to play nice with others? How wonderfully mature of you all."

Everyone, except Percy, hung their head a bit lower at the words.

And then Connor, the brave soul, stepped up and cleared his throat. "Mr. D, I know what this may look like to you, and with all due respect dude, I totally dig that you can pull off the whole tiger pattern thing and still be a badass—"

"Quiet, Stoll!" the older man barked. Mr. D was starting to get that look in his eyes; the one that told you to run away while you still can because of the freaky purple fire thing burning in them.

Connor flinched involuntarily and slowly sunk back into the crowd behind him.

"There's no need to inform me. And I know exactly what happened," he continued, turning his glare onto their Captain. "Peter Johnson over here couldn't control his damn feelings, and so he just had to take them out on that poor Roman boy."

And here he goes with pretending to forget his name again. Poor Roman boy his ass. The kid fought like a professional UFC fighter.

Percy glared back, pointing at his marks for added effect. "_He _was the one that attacked _me_. _He_ did this to _me_."

Mr. D's voice rose slowly. "But you threw the first punch. There were hundreds of witnesses that saw you hit the boy."

Coach Hedge snickered weakly. "Yeah, from the Roman side."

Mr. D just stared him down till he got the message.

Realization finally struck him "Ahh, right, not helping here. Got it."

The principal sighed in annoyance, and then turned back to Percy. "You should've known better than to wake a sleeping giant. Bad things tend to happen when you don't know when to pick your battles."

Frustration sinking in, Percy countered. "They hurt Nico! What was I supposed to do?"

"Cool it, Jefferson," he replied with dangerous calm. "I spoke on the phone with Mr. di Angelo's father. He told me the boy is fine and well. Fortunately, the injury was only a sprained ankle and nothing too damaging. Mr. di Angelo will be back to his feet soon enough."

The team breathed out a sigh of relief none of them knew they were holding in.

Percy didn't even blink. "Good." He nodded.

"Oh don't think any of you are off the hook yet," Mr. D assured. "I'm still thinking over how cruel and deserving your punishment should be."

The team Captain just shook his head in annoyance. "You know, would it kill you to actually look at this from our point of view for once? They hurt one of our guys, one of our best friends, and we're a team. We look out for each other."

The older man raised a brow. "And that justifies attacking an opposing student?"

Percy finally looked ready to blow. "I didn't attack him!" he shouted.

"Watch your tone, boy!" Mr. D pointed, standing at full height from his desk. "I've had it up to my head with all your complaining and troublemaking. You're lucky I'm not expelling any of you brats."

Still, the younger man didn't back down. "Then what?" he challenged. "Detention for two weeks? Three weeks? What are you gonna do?"

Mr. D stood up straighter, his eyes still burning that intense, dark purple. "Oh, you asked for this Perseus Jackson," he said dangerously. "As principal of this school, I am hereby ordering the complete disbandment of the Spartan soccer team for the entire season! There will be no more matches!"

Percy looked on in stunned silence. Hell, they all stood in stunned silence.

And just as suddenly as they were silent, they all quickly erupted into complaints and pleas at the same time—not doing anything to quell the growing migraine in the older man's brain. They shouted the usual comebacks, from 'That's not fair!' and 'You can't do that!' to even 'Coach Hedge, get up and say something!'

At the words, the suffering coach stood from the sofa, ice pack still resting on his balding head. "Mr. D, even for you I have to admit that's a bit on the extreme side—"

"Quiet, Gleeson!" he interrupted. "I have half a mind to fire you for letting this happen under your watch. Consider yourself lucky your paycheck isn't in jeopardy. Now get out. That goes for the lot of you too."

He left with a hesitant nod, the others only slowly following his lead. Percy was the last out the door, of course. The shock was still clear on his face but you could tell he just wanted to scream on the inside. He would've gladly accepted detention, but this? Having the whole team, not to mention the entire school, suffer for his stupid emotional mistake? He'd been punished many times for crazy things, but this was the first time he ever felt truly guilty because of one. Mr. D can be ruthless when he wanted to. And now everyone would have to pay the price.

Once they all exited, Mr. D slumped lazily back into his desk with a long sigh. It wasn't easy being a man like him. Only 4 words were on his mind at the moment. He. Needed. A. Drink. And he needed it now.

Walking over to the drawer where he kept his secret stash in a locked safe by the back window. He opened it, failing to see that someone had entered into his office. But he did hear that someone, thinking it was probably one of the students or players about to give a heart-warming speech hoping to convince him to reverse his decision with meaningless words and knee begging.

He groaned outwardly. "Whatever it is you're going to say, I'll save you the trouble of saying it. My decision is final. Period. Nothing you can say will affect me."

He could practically (ok, metaphorically) hear the person smirk without so much a glance. He spoke with a deep but playful voice. "Oh I highly doubt that, my friend. I happen to hold great sway around this school and. . ." the voice then turned to fake annoyance. "Oh, please tell me you're not going to start consuming alcohol again so early in the evening. It's such a waste on a fine day like this."

That wasn't a student's voice, he thought. He looked back at the entrance to prove his theory and was met with a bearded, piercing brown eyed, wheel chaired man in a patented tweed jacket.

Mr. D sighed again. "Ah, Chiron it's just you, thank God."

Chiron raised a brow so it almost blended with his hairline. "Who were you expecting? Dean Martin?"

He laughed shortly in response. "My friend, not even _I_ am that old enough to know about whoever celebrity you were speaking of. Care for a drink? We might as well since it is a Saturday and school hours are closed."

He shrugged. "Why not. What are you serving?"

Mr. D produced a thin, long black box and two drinking glasses from his stash, quickly closing the safe's door on his personal collection. Can't have the school board finding out about this, right?

"Johnnie Walker, Black Label of 1992."

Chiron arched his thick brows again. "Blended? Funny, I always took you for the single-malt type of man. Of course, I also took you for more of a wine man, but scotch is just as enticing."

Mr. D grinned despite himself, digging for some ice in his cooler before passing him a glass. "Oh, believe me, Chiron, I am. But why waste the good stuff on this rotten day. And once you're in three or four glasses, brand name hardly matters anymore."

He poured himself a glass and raised it. "To old friends." He cheered.

"And many long, healthy years in our future" Chiron added. They drank together.

"So," the brown eyed man started. "It seems you had quite the conversation with our sports team. You could hear the commotion from half a wing away."

Mr. D, being the snarky one, said. "And here I thought you just came to bask in my drinks and company."

Chiron smiled, looking into his drink. "Well you are correct, I did come out of curiosity, but the Black Label was only an added bonus." He assured.

The black haired man shook his head with a sigh. "Well, if you must know, I did what needed to be done. I put my foot down and disciplined those boys. That Percy Jackson is far too thick for my liking. Detention was much too light of a punishment, considering his past record, and they had been clearly warned from the beginning of the consequences. So, I had to hit him where it hurt most: his pride, his loyalty, his arrogance. I disbanded the whole team. Are you satisfied now?"

His smile had lost some of its luster, but the old teacher hardly looked surprised by the news.

"You are as cruel as you are correct. Which is to say, very." Then he sighed. "Perseus is a fine young lad. Brave, intelligent, witty, and loyal beyond belief. He will grow up into someone special one day, someone important. But, granted, I must conceive the boy is not yet a man. He doesn't know when to control his actions. He's too wild, too stubborn. Oh, how I've tried to show him the meaning of restraint. Sadly, my efforts are fruitless as of yet."

Mr. D nodded. "I honestly don't know how you deal with the boy on a daily basis. That consistent amount of time would drive anyone mad. And I would know a thing or two about madness."

Chiron took another swing of his drink. "It's a shame. He is so much like his father."

Mr. D copied the action. "Don't you talk to me about the boy's father. I knew him better than most, and I can tell you Poseidon was never this reckless. Granted, he had a flare for danger but he was wise enough to know when enough was enough. I mourn for his loss."

Chiron stared at the man intently, the next words sounding more like a statement than a question. "He still does not know a thing about his father."

He nodded again. "Nor will he anytime soon. His mother, Sally, has enough good sense than to give too much away. If he were truly his son, it would only lead him down the same path his father took, if not somewhere worse. As much as I dislike Percy Jackson, I would wish that type of fate on no one."

Chiron finished his drink and placed it on his desk. "Then we must keep an eye out for him. Closely. To make sure he does not."

"Are you ready for a task like that?"

Chiron grinned. "I was born ready."

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><p><strong>AN: It's done! Oh, exciting ending right? Well, tell me in a review. REVIEW please!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Ok, yes I took long. Yes, you should be used to it by now. But I still love you guys so I updated as fast as I could. And I started a new PJO story! You can check it out on my profile, it's called 'Dysfunctional? Yes. Psychotic? Possibly. So here's the update, enjoy!**

**P.s. Rick Riordan is the genius, not me.**

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><p><span>Take Me Higher<span>

Chapter 9

"Jason, you really need to stop shaking," Reyna chided as they stood outside in the weapons laden hallways. "Seriously, you look like a terrified chipmunk."

Jason would've glared at her had he not actually been shaking.

To say he was a bit nervous about being called into Lt. Lupa's office after the match they had been specifically told not to screw up would've been an understatement of mind blowing proportions. And that was without the fact that everyone else on the team went home and he was the only one called in.

Reyna was at the game and rode with Jason back for support and to check how he was doing.

But what did you expect from him? Lupa was a cold hearted lieutenant at the most prestigious military school in the state of New York with a below zero-tolerance level. She'd stomp on you before you even had the chance to pull off your prank. And this was much worse than any prank he could've done.

Jason's tone was patronizing, "Reyna, this is Lupa we're talking about. She is going to _kill_ me. Slowly. And painfully."

She gave him a look, crossing her arms over her chest, "You're over exaggerating."

"I think I'm doing the right amount of exaggerating." He countered.

"But it wasn't even your fault!" she reminded. "That Goode kid, Jackson or whatever was asking for a fight. You can't keep blaming yourself for every little thing that goes wrong."

He shook his head, "It was a trap waiting to happen. And I fell for it like an idiot."

She sighed, giving him a pitiful glance, "Maybe."

He let that statement linger in his head for a while. Maybe it wasn't a trap, he thought to himself. Maybe that Percy Jackson actually _was_ trying to defend his friend's honor. Or maybe it was and Jason was right. I mean, this was a sporting match, and injures are bound to happen at some point. And, honestly, who would be that stupid as to go pick a fight with everything that was riding on that game? Not to mention the kind of trouble they'd get into. Jason didn't know the guy that well, but he had really hoped he wasn't that stupid.

Apparently he was.

"Look," Reyna sighed, taking his hand into hers. Jason was a bit startled at the contact. She was holding his hand! He had to focus really hard to keep down the blush threatening to light up his cheeks. Reyna wasn't normally one for comforting, but this felt. . .oddly nice. And he was starting to feel a lot less shaky now.

"Whatever happens," she continued. "Everything will turn out ok in the end. And if it's not ok, then it's not the end."

Jason tried to keep down a laugh too, he really tried. But he failed. He imploded with immature laughter, "Where did you get _that_ from? A self-help book?" he teased.

She shoved him, forcefully. He was a bit disappointed about the break in handholding, but he couldn't stop smiling.

The dark haired teen was glaring at him now, "My sister gave me that advice, ok. She'd kick your ass if she was here right now. And I happen to have her on my speed-dial."

The blonde playfully held up his hands in defeat, "Ok, ok, I'm sorry. That was. . .a beautiful quote, really. Very inspiring and heart-warming. Please don't send your ass-kicking sister after me." He joked.

Reyna just rolled her eyes, "Just get in there and face Lupa before I go push you in myself."

He took a deep breath to calm himself and nodded, "Ok, I'm ready now. I'll see you soon." He promised.

As Jason turned to walk in, he paused as he neared for the door knob. He met her eyes one last time, "And Reyna, honestly, thank you for being here. No one else came to help, so that means a lot to me that you did. Thanks for coming with me."

A genuine smile started creeping up those lips of hers, "Anytime, Grace. Anytime."

He just had to smile back at that. And then he walked into Lt. Lupa's office, not breaking eye contact till the door slammed shut behind him.

! #$%^&*()

. . .

**Jason G. POV**

The look on Lupa's face told me two things: 1) She was pissed as Hell, and 2) I wasn't the only one she was pissed at.

Coach Mars was there too, standing straight and proud like he was a Chief of Staff and facing Lupa's death glare without a hint of fear or hesitation. I, on the other hand, was almost mortified by the standoff. These were the two toughest, bravest, and most intimidating people at Westover, standing as still as statues like they were having some ultra secret mental conversation going on.

This was _not_ going to end well.

I thought about slowly backing out and leaving the two to whatever the Hell they were doing, until I heard the Coach say, "Get over here kid."

And of course I had to obey.

Lupa turned her glare on me now. I tried my best to stay calm. The Lieutenant didn't like seeing weakness, even if it was because of her presence.

"You've failed again, my pup," The stone-cold red head started. "First our Eagle is stolen under your nose by those Goode hooligans last year, costing our academy its pride, its honor, its very soul. And now you come here, after disobeying a direct order not to sabotage this event. Look what has happened."

Every word stung like a stake through the heart. All my mistakes, my failures, and my past coming to bite me in the ass.

"Do you know what you've done." She asked, except it was anything but a question.

I nodded, "Yes, Lieutenant."

"And what is that?" she patronized. I thought about that for a minute. How could I put this gently?

I took a deep breath, "I let my team down. I let this school down. And I let _you_ down, mam; because I couldn't control my emotions and engaged with an opposing player. I made a decision unworthy of my rank as Captain, and I compromised our chance at a win in the game. I am _truly_ sorry for what happened, and I just hope everyone can forgive me for that. I promise, Lieutenant, I won't let it happen again."

Phew, that sounded pretty good to me.

They stayed as quiet as crickets. It was starting to feel a little creepy.

"Umm. . ." I hummed. "I didn't miss anything, did I?"

Coach Mars grinned like he had just won the lottery, "Nope. Congrats, kid, you sounded like a true Captain, not a spoiled brat. God knows we have too many of those in this damn school." He muttered that last part under his breath.

"Wait. . .you lost me. Am I in trouble or what?"

"Yes, my pup, you're still in deep, deep trouble," Lt. Lupa replied. "But, Coach Mars here has convinced me to lessen your punishment if you managed to learn from this little experience. It seems you have. Don't make the same mistake again, Jason Grace. I'll hold you to your promise, mind you."

I had to sigh in relief. Everything was gonna be ok, just like Reyna said.

"So what's my punishment?" I asked.

"Detention," Coach answered for her. "Till the day you graduate."

Oh crap, I thought.

! #$%^&*()

. . .

**Percy J. POV**

The second I stepped into our apartment and closed the door behind me was the second I got hugged (though it felt more like being tackled) by my sobbing mother.

She kept mumbling and bawling into my torn orange jersey. Adding tears to the rips and blood stains in my uniform. My mom was rambling uncontrollably, but I managed to make most of it out. It went something like, "Oh, Percy, my baby boy. I was so worried for you, and I'm so, so sorry I couldn't have been there," she paused for a deep, shaky breath between her sobs then said, "The school called and said you were hurt. And I thought I almost lost you again. Thank God, you're safe."

I was a bit caught off guard by the embrace, but I wasn't even shocked by it. I hugged her and rubbed circles into her back, trying to calm her down. She just held on tighter.

"I'm alright," I assured her softly. "It's just a few scratches." I knew my injuries were a lot more serious than that, but compared to last year, they kinda were. But that was a conversation I've had far too many times with my mother. Plus I didn't want her to get too upset over a few cut and bruises anyway.

She pulled back to cup my face, checking how serious they actually were. Her eyes were just a bit pink, which was a good sign. She hadn't been crying for long.

"I'll go get the first aid kit." She said, dragging me into the living room toward my bedroom.

Gabe was there, playing poker with his buddies around the dining table, beers all around with the TV blaring out commentary from ESPN Sports Center. He looked up lazily, barely trying to hide a grin when he saw my marks. "No broken legs, brain boy?" he teased. "That's too bad. Sally's been crying up a flood of waterworks for nothing."

I would've smacked that grin right off his face and then some if my mom hadn't been leading me into my bedroom.

"Come on," she said, pulling me a little harder away from the poker party.

She closed the door of my room and fetched a kit from one of my drawers. She handed me a cloth with some rubbing alcohol on it. I cleaned myself up nicely, flinching whenever it came into contact with a cut or bruise. It stung like a bitch, but it did the trick. She also put those huge Band-Aids on my cheeks and arms.

When my mom finished, she ran her hand through my tangled, jet black mess I call hair, the way she always did when this kind of thing happened. And because of that, I knew what was coming next. So I asked her, "Do you mind if we not talk about it this time?"

Her eyes were drier now, and she gave me a small smile, "If that's what you want, then we don't have to." She assured.

I just had to smile back at that. We sat there in silence for a while, no words were spoken because none were need. This wasn't the first time I've ended up getting bandaged by my mother after a fight. I was hoping it would be the last, but who was I kidding? It probably wouldn't be.

Instinctively, my mom checked her watch, and her smiled suddenly disappeared.

"Percy, I have to go soon. I have night classes with Paul tonight at the school."

I sighed in disappointment. She was taking English Lit. Classes with Mr. Blofis to become an author one day. I knew it was something she really wanted, and I couldn't hold her back from something like this. "It's ok, I get it." I replied.

Her smile returned, a bit hesitantly, "Are you going to be alright alone with Gabe?"

I resisted the urge to snicker in disgust, but I hid my discomfort with a grin, "Yeah, I'll be fine. You should go."

She got up and planted a kiss on my forehead, "Be safe. I love you Percy." She said. My mom left the building a few minutes later.

I laid down on my bed with a sigh, finally thinking I was about to get some much need peace from my hectic life for a moment. Then the doorbell rang, and I knew fate was enjoying messing with me now. Nothing ever goes my way.

"Get the door, brain boy!" Gabe called from inside.

I did, not without muttering every fucking cuss word I knew under my breath. Then I opened it, and I swear my heart stopped for a minute. There was a certain tan, blonde haired, stormy gray eyed girl standing outside my door.

After what seemed like an hour, I finally recovering from the shock and said, "Annabeth?"

She found out where I lived. But I never told her my address. And all those earlier thoughts about us never talking about our families or private lives or homes came crashing down on me.

She looked determined, but gave a relieved smile nonetheless, "We need to talk."

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><p><strong>AN: Ok, don't have much to say anymore. Just REVIEW!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I. Am. Back! Whoa, this took forever to finish! But I'm proud to say this is friggin LONG! How's 3500+ words for you guys? I know you'll love this chap so I'll try to keep this simple. I'm leaving for the airport today, and I just had to finish this before I head on a plane. My summer **_**officially**_** begins. And that means. . .faster updates! Hopefully of course. I'll try my best. Enjoy!**

**P.s. Rick Riordan is the genius, not me.**

**P.P.s. SHOUT OUT TO ALL MY REVIEWERS! YOU GUYS ROCK! You are all the inspiration for this chapter, and I hope I didn't disappoint you with the long wait.**

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><p><span>Take Me Higher<span>

Chapter 10

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><p>Thalia really wished she had her own car.<p>

Not only because she had to take a cab every time a friend couldn't drive her someplace, which in itself was a seriously overpriced drain on her finances (with the fact Jason had _yet_ to get back to her on that situation with the child-support check), but because if she did, she wouldn't be driving Nico to his house in his pitch black Mitsubishi Evo while he was in the passenger seat, a new crisp white cast now bandaged over his injured ankle.

They'd been '_evacuated_' from the soccer field moments ago due to the huge brawl that broke out between the Goode High players and the Westover players. Thalia had to half carry a limping Nico with his arm over her shoulder back to the parking lot and into the vehicle. Which was _not_ fun, despite the close physical contact between them.

On a normal day, she would've loved the fact that they were in the same car. Alone. Just the two of them with nothing more than a half tank of gas and a killer set of loud speakers blaring out either Green Day or Killswitch Engage (Nico's personal favorite band). But there was no music playing. The awkward silence between them was as heavy as a battleship anchor, and Thalia hated every freaking minute of it.

She was angry, and worried, and traumatized, and felt like crying all at the same time. She also didn't know _who _to be angry at.

Percy? Jason? That friend of Jason who hurt Nico? Or Nico himself?

She just didn't know.

Percy was an asshole for starting the whole fight in the first place. Jason was an asshole for breaking his promise and getting into said fight. That other guy was an asshole for hurting Nico, which caused Percy to start said fight. And Nico was. . .well, it was like he was giving her the damn silent treatment for fuck's sake!

It was decided; they were all to blame. Screw all of them! She didn't need this shit messing with her life. She had enough of her own problems as it was. No good would possibly come from getting caught in the middle of this little rivalry.

It was in that moment, however, Nico decided to break the silence. "Hey Thals."

She kept her eyes on the road, but listened attentively, "Yeah, what?"

He was glad she wasn't looking at him to see the torn, concerned look he was giving her.

There were a lot of things on Nico's mind. Like how what was supposed to be the biggest game of the decade had quickly degenerated into a massive street fight all in the 5 minutes he'd been in the training room getting looked at by the medics. And how most of that time had been spent as a painful blur of rushing white uniforms, red crosses, and the view of plain ceiling tiles from lying on a stretcher. That is until he felt a hand grip his own, and a soothing voice follow it. He had recognized it almost immediately; it was Thalia's hand, and Thalia's voice. But the most nagging thought he had was why she was even there in the first place.

Thalia didn't go to Spartan games. Period. At least not since last year's incident. So why was she there?

Almost every one of the students who showed up only did so for two reasons: to show their support and, more importantly, to get a bit of vengeance and bragging rights when the other team lost. But the punk teen was smarter than that, Nico thought. She would've at least _expected_ something like this to happen. And if she had, she wouldn't have shown up.

Something wasn't right, he concluded. He knew her well enough to know this wasn't like her. And the wheels inside his head were started to turn, albeit slowly, but turning nonetheless.

"Um, are you. . .okay, Thals?" he finally asked. They were outside the city now, not too far from his house but there was still some distance left.

She ignored the road to give him a side look, half incredulous, half thinking maybe _he_ was the crazy one. "You're the one with the bad ankle, and you're asking _me_ if I'm okay? Did that guy happen to kick you in the head too, Nico?"

He fell back into his seat, thoroughly frustrated, "That's not what I meant."

She scrunched her brows, turning her attention back to her driving, "Then what?"

"Well. . .I was, uh, just wondering that. . .um—"

She sighed, "Spit it out, di Angelo."

They turned a corner to a familiar, lonely road. He took a long moment to find his courage. Once he did, he turned to her, a serious look in his eyes, "Why were you there? At the game, I mean. I've never seen you at one till today."

Thalia took her time with an answer as well. She had to be careful about this one, or she could give away her secret. She sighed again, "I was stupid. I thought things would be different this time. Boy, was I wrong." Little did he know it was Jason who had promised her it wouldn't turn out like it did.

He raised a brow, failing to notice they were only feet away from their destination. "What made you think that?"

The punk teen responded by slamming the brakes. Forcefully.

Nico, the poor guy, wasn't wearing a seat belt so he unfortunately felt the full impact of the dash board against his aching skull.

He yelped in pain, rubbing his temple, "Jesus, Thalia! Would it kill you to give me a heads up next time?"

She looked smug, hiding her relief that he had changed the subject. Now all she had to do was keep it that way. "Nope," she answered, popping the 'p' happily. "I wasn't the one not wearing his seatbelt in his own car. We're here anyway."

* * *

><p><strong>Thalia G. POV<strong>

One thing you should probably know about Nico before I continue.

He's rich. And I mean like, filthy rich!

His house is actually a mansion located outside the city. It's got a huge backyard, and a patio, and maids, and about a hundred different rooms. It looked like a gothic medieval castle had collided with the Parthenon (don't ask me how I know what it looks like, just blame Annabeth), but a lot more elegantly. The mansion was all black marble and stone, with pointed high rise towers, sharply arched windows, and Classical Greek columns and statues everywhere.

It was a definitely a sight for sore eyes. Or maybe just Annabeth's eyes. Whatever.

His dad was a doctor, but Nico's family had made a killing in the mining industry before he was even born. He told me they dealt with gold, coal, copper, iron, plutonium, and all those other expensive things coming out of the ground. That's how they could afford the house.

Nico sighed in relief as he limped to the door with my help. "Home, sweet home."

I steadied him so I can look through one of the windows on the door. I frown, "It looks empty."

He laughs lightly, "It always looks empty. Don't worry, Bianca is probably inside." He then rang the door bell.

It didn't take long after that for the door to open, and a new face to arrive. The girl looked about a year or two older than me, around college age I figured. She had olive skin and dark silky hair. She could've been Nico's twin if she was a guy and a bit shorter. She was wearing a gray 'Georgetown' tee and black shorts with dark flip flops. It could only be the famous Bianca di Angelo.

Despite the lack of color choice, she had a really bright smile and friendly features. . .which lasted about two seconds before she noticed Nico's leg in a cast and that he was being supported me.

She looked shocked and concerned, "Oh my God! Nico, you alright? What happened?" she said, quickly putting his arm around her to help me. "Let's get you inside."

He had to jump the steps at the entrance, but we managed to get him all the way to the couch in the living room. Which, of course, was made of fine leather plus this dark wood that was probably worth more than my mom's car, and a kick-ass fire place. We both eased him down before I collapsed on the love seat next to it. Bianca still looked worried, sitting down across from us.

"What happened?" she repeated anxiously. "What's wrong with your leg?"

Nico gave her a look telling her to calm down. "It's just a sprained ankle, Bi." He assured. "The medics said I'll be fine in a few weeks once I get a set of crutches. No big deal. Where's Dad?"

"Dad's at work." She answered quickly. "And how did you sprain your ankle?"

He sucked in a deep breath. "There. . .might have been an incident at the game we had today. The goalie kind of baseball slid into me before I scored."

"It was an accident, though." I added.

Bianca nodded slowly, crossing the room to give him a hug. She sighed in relief, "I'm glad you're okay."

Me and Nico shared a long, silent glance. It'd probably be best if we didn't mention the fight that went down after that happened. Just so it wouldn't add to his sister's stress and concern.

After releasing him, she turned to me with a smile and a hand. "Sorry about that. I'm guessing you're the famous Thalia Grace?"

I shook it. "That wouldn't be _incorrect_. What gave it away?" I asked slyly.

Her smile widened a bit more. "Nico's description was very. . .articulate. He can't seem to stop talking about yo—"

Nico coughed. Loudly. Giving her the cut throat signal to stop, and hoping I wouldn't notice.

I did. And it made me grin uncontrollably.

"You sick too, Nico?" his sister teased, holding back a smirk. He face palmed himself, looking about ready to die then and there. "I should probably tell Francesca to make you some tea. Come on, Thalia. Seems like we need a more private talk."

She grabbed my wrist and led me to the kitchen. I didn't resist, this was way too much fun to watch.

"_Francesca_!" she called. Not even a second later, a short 60-ish year old looking lady in a white apron and chef's hat appeared. Her graying hair was tied back in a bun and she looked like she walked with a limp.

"_Hai chiamato per me, Signora_?" she said. Whoa, what language was that? I thought.

"_Sì, ti invitiamo a fare un po 'di tè Nico? Penso che potrebbe essere malato." _She had that sly smile on as she said that. I took whatever she said was supposed to be funny.

Francesca just nodded. _"__Certamente, Signora. vuoi un po '?"_

"_Sì,_ _Grazie Francesca." _And then she was off to work, filling up a pot with water and lighting up the stove.

I stared at Bianca, confused. "What was that? Spanish? And what did you say to her?"

"Italian," she clarified. "And I. . .just told her to make some tea for us and Nico."

"Because he's 'sick'?"

She nodded.

I had to giggle at that. And I almost never giggle. But this was a special occasion I suppose. "Oh, he'll _love_ that." I replied, tone oozing with sarcasm.

Turns out, Francesca was pretty fast in the kitchen for an old goon. She settled two cups with a brown liquid inside for us on the island next to the oven.

"Bianca," I said to her, holding up my cup. "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

"I couldn't agree more." We clicked our cups together and drank. Hmm, I wonder what kinda juicy info I could get out of her without Nico coughing up a storm in the next room?

* * *

><p><strong>Percy J. POV <strong>(continuing from Chap 9)

"We need to talk." She said.

I quickly stepped out of my home and closed the door behind me. It was a bit obvious from my actions that I didn't want her to see anything in there. And she noticed this as well.

She glanced at it for a second, raising a brow in my direction, "You not going to invite your girlfriend in to see your apartment, Seaweed Brain?"

I tried for a smile, thinking it might lighten the mood a bit. It failed, and it was already starting to feel awkward. "There's. . .nothing worth seeing in there, Wise Girl."

That was true, of course. Gabe wasn't much of an attraction. Not that I wanted for her to see him anyway.

She looked a little disappointed, rubbing her arm nervously as if she didn't know how to continue. "Do you. . .wanna go for a walk?"

I blinked at her. That was unexpected. "Uh, yeah sure. You have anywhere specific in mind?"

She had a mischievous, not-quite smile on when she shook her head. "No."

Her sly grin was contagious. "Nowhere it is then."

And then we walked out of my building hand in hand.

* * *

><p>It was late afternoon outside, and getting dark fast. The street lamps had just turned on once we got to the sidewalk and kids normally playing around the block or sitting outside on their steps were heading in for the day. Annabeth and I practically being adults, there wasn't much of a problem staying out into the night. As long we actually <em>got<em> home, it didn't matter how late we came back. There weren't many cars passing by either. So, with the hushed tone of New York in the background, the lights, the handholding, and the privacy, you might say it was a bit romantic.

And _that_ is what finally seemed to lighten the atmosphere. "So," Annabeth began slowly. "I guess this means we can't go to that new club tonight."

I smiled despite myself. She was taking it slow, not pushing on the whole soccer fight and that shit. "I guess it does. It's no biggie. I'm sure _no one_ is in the mood for a party after everything that went down. I think it's better if we wait another week. Connor and Travis are still recovering, and you know we can't have a good night out without the Stolls."

"Or a safe one." She added. And we started cracking up. I can't tell you the number of times a great party has had to close down because of some crazy thing the Stoll Bros. cooked up. It had to be at least a dozen.

I nodded after we both calmed down, "True. Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em."

Annabeth went silent for a moment after that. "What exactly happened to you guys after the game. You all just disappeared for an hour. I called Katie and Silena, and they said the boys were pretty devastated after they came back."

I sighed, my mood dropping a bit. I could tell she was trying to hide her curiosity, but the way she pressed it out into the open, it seemed like she was really worried too. But hey, she had a right to know.

"We got sent to Mr. D's. And. It. Was. Brutal." I answered. "He broke up the team, for the entire season this year. We were all shocked as Hell."

She was gapping with wide eyes, but then quickly closed her mouth and recomposed herself. "Wow. No wonder they were so upset." She gave me a side glance, a spark of concern in those stormy gray eyes. "Are you doing alright, Percy?"

I sucked in a deep breath, "Yeah, I'll be fine. It's just. . .unfair, you know. I try to defend Nico, and then all the guys have to pay for it? That's not right, and I was only fighting for my friend. That Jason kid got what was coming to him."

It was her turn to sigh and look at me. "You're such a Seaweed Brain. You know it didn't have to end like that. The smart choice would've been to help Nico, not get yourself into trouble over fighting a guy that had nothing to do with Nico's injury."

I stopped walking and gave her a look. "You're saying if a friend of yours got hurt, you wouldn't have confronted the people involved? If Juniper or even Piper had got a sprained ankle, you wouldn't try to get back at that someone?"

She stared back at me dead in the eye. "No. I would've waited for a more appropriate time before doing that. And don't you turn this on me," she snapped. "This is about Nico. Look, I know what you were trying to do, and I'm sure he appreciates everything you did for him, but I know he can fight his own battles. Let him stand up for himself, he's not a kid."

I opened my mouth to say something, but my mind stopped me before I could. I turned away, running a hand through my hair in frustration. Why did Wise girl have to be so right? It wasn't fair, because it was so hard to argue against her logic, and she knew that. But that didn't make me feel any better.

I took a moment to respond, still not looking at her. "Maybe. . .that hadn't been the smartest move I've ever made."

I could practically hear her smirk and raise a brow behind me. "Ya think?"

I finally looked back. "Hey, don't push your luck 'cause I agreed you were right. That's to be expected of you, not me."

Annabeth stepped closer to me, still smirking and wrapped her arms around my torso. I put mine on her hips. "Yeah. But that's why I love you." She finished it off with planting a kiss on my lips.

How could I disagree with that?

We broke for air, and I smirked back despite myself. "Well then, that makes one of us."

She giggled, and I closed the gap between our mouths again.

And then Annabeth's phone decided half-way between our session to ring. Like I said, Fate freaking _enjoys_ messing with my life nowadays.

We broke again for her to answer it. "Yeah, Dad." She said talking into her I-phone 4.

"Uh-hu. . . .Now?. . .With Percy. Why?. . .Can I just have. . .Ugh, okay fine but. . .Yes, I'll be there. . . .Okay, bye Dad."

She groaned and lowered her head into her hands once she hung up.

"Everything ok?" I asked a bit worried.

"Yeah, everything's peachy. Listen, I have to go, Percy. I'll see you tomorrow at school, ok?"

"Yeah, definitely. So this is goodnight, Wise girl. You need a cab?"

"Nah, I like walking. I'll see you later. Take care, Seaweed Brain."

We smiled and embraced each other one last time. The hug was a bit longer than usual, like neither of us wanted to return to our homes anytime soon. Her blonde curls smelled great, like lemons and strawberries. It was almost intoxicating. And then we released each other. She went ahead, jogging down the street to God knows where. I watched her all the way till she turned the corner before heading back to my own place.

That wasn't as bad as I thought it would've been. It was always great to talk to Annabeth, no matter what we were talking about we always had a way of staving off the tension and stress that came with serious discussions. That was just a testament to how great we were as a couple. Nothing ever affected us too much for it to damage our bond.

I kept thinking about that all the way to my apartment door.

But then I froze, my blood literally turning to ice and my eyes widening in fear.

This wasn't happening. This was _not_ happening to me. My day couldn't possibly be this bad. Fate wasn't just messing with my life, she was trying to fucking _murder_ it, painfully.

For on the pale, faded blue door of my apartment was a lazily hanging note nailed in.

_Nice try, punk. You thought you could get away with that match. Smart._

_But here's the problem, causing that little stunt of yours doesn't change a God damn thing. I didn't win my bet money, and that's because of your fucking dumbass brain. You were told to take a fall. And you didn't. Now here comes the pain. You'll be seeing me real soon, punk._

_Watch your back, kid. I'm getting repayment; one way or another._

_And I don't have to tell you who's coming for you, do I?_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ohh, shocking! Terrifying isn't it? I had to channel my inner punk/metal beast for that note. So I might not see your reviews for a few days cuz I'll be at the airport, but when I do get internet access, show me some love people! REVIEW!**

**And for those 85% people (all Americans) who won't understand what I'm about to say, you're forgiven for not knowing. For those 15% (most Europeans) who do, know that I love you people.**

**GOOOAAL! GOOOAAL! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAALLLLL! VIVA YA SILVA! VIVA ESPAGNIA! VIVA ESPAGNIA! YA SALLLLLLLLAAAAAAAM! VIVA ESPAGNIA!**


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